#the lodge at sea island

[sakti3940]

Luxury Resort in Saint Simons Island

[jonkwasnyczka]

Jagdschloss Granitz, Insel Rügen

[frothytundra]

Across the Strait of Georgia

Across the Strait of Georgia

When you visit the Surf Lodge Pub on Gabriola Island, you will be amazed by the massive size and beauty of the wooden joists and beams that support the roof above you. When you leave the Surf Lodge Pub on Gabriola Island, you will be in awe of the view of the Strait of Georgia that greets you. In the distance are pastel suggestions of the mainland, and in between there and you is the deceptively…

[merakiui]

while in captivity, floyd encounters a human and unintentionally pair-bonds with you during a moment of biological vulnerability.

(cw: gender neutral reader, nsfw, omegaverse/abo, heats, captivity)

The marine lab has recently acquired a unique specimen—unique in that he is half-human and half-fish, hailing from deep, dark, indescribable depths. An eel merman, to be exact. You’ve only ever glimpsed merfolk in outdated textbooks and fairytales, the latter of which depicted them as whimsical beings capable of feats beyond scientific understanding. Magic. Although in the realm of biology, such folly is never entertained and so what the world calls ‘magic’ other fields built upon the foundations of research refer to it as a ‘miracle’. In your eyes those words are interchangeable, but then the idea of a miracle is far easier to digest than the concept of magic.

Merfolk have always been elusive, covert creatures, hence why there is hardly any conclusive data on them. In fact, they’re so secretive that they were believed to be mostly extinct—a figment of dreams and hallucinations. Most of what humans know stems from the tattered notes of long-gone sailors, their presences nearly lost to time itself, and for a while all anyone ever knew were four key details:

They are spread throughout the sea, living out their lives in frigid fathoms. 

They are hypnotic and deceptive. 

They are predatory. 

They rarely interact with humankind unless absolutely necessary (e.g. to hunt or observe).

But with plenty of promising technological advances, some of the theories and myths surrounding merfolk have been bolstered or disproved, respectively. Merfolk are just as diverse as the rest of the animal kingdom. Some live in solitude. Others thrive in groups. Some make their home out of caves and grottos. Some dwell within the labyrinths of volcanic rock formations. It is every marine biologist’s dream to come face to face with one of these mysterious creatures, if only for just a few minutes to glean more information.

That dream is made reality today.

The eel mer was discovered off the coast of a tiny island, entangled in fishing lines and plastic litter. His large, winding body, snake-like in its sleek build, was littered with scars and scrapes. There was a hook lodged up in the folds of his gills. Despite his thrashing, his tail swishing wildly in the sand and nearly knocking down three researchers like they were bowling pins, he was wheezing and gasping, drained of energy and air. When the first bucket of seawater came down upon his dry gills, he settled briefly, wide, crazed, mismatched eyes flicking from face to face. Likely assessing the situation or counting the amount of bodies, the report claimed.

He fell still after that, and it took two teams of ten people to load him onto the lift so he could be flown to the lab.

After he spent a week in recovery, where he healed surprisingly fast, he was transferred to a much larger and wider tank, its depths far deeper than the average swimming pool. He doesn’t swim to the surface much, and he only ever pokes his head out at night, scanning his surroundings with intelligent, keen eyes. And then he turns and disappears below. It’s a pattern he’s stuck to for weeks now. No one really understands it, and they haven’t had the opportunity to try. He’s uncooperative and unpredictable. It’s much too dangerous to send a diver down there.

So they transfer you to his enclosure, assuming you might have more luck. You’re not sure and you can’t make any promises of potential success, as you’ve only ever interacted with marine mammals. A merman is…different. Not only because he’s half-man and, by that same logic, likely possesses a human brain that is capable of a higher level of thought, albeit one that is wired to suit his mer biology, but because he’s bigger. A lot bigger.

He could kill you.

You saw the documentation. The serrated teeth, the powerful claws, the dangerous jaw, the bulky, muscular build that cuts through water like a bullet. He is a predator in every sense of the word, and you’re supposed to look after him. Coax him to the surface. Get him to trust humans. Interact with him just inches from the edge of his tank and hope that he doesn’t get hungry or violent.

He might kill you.

But there are safety measures put in place for these things. Ethics to be followed and whatnot. It’s a slippery slope because he’s part human and therefore could possibly have the same level of intelligence humans have, in which case it would be wrong to trap him here. There may be ways to skirt around it with other animals, but he’s not like other animals.

For now, he’s kept here under the pretense of recovery and scientific study. The lab treats him like the big fish he is, going so far as to buy a shark suit in your size and instruct you to wear it even though you’re not going to get in the water. “It should prevent him from biting through,” they had said, “but it won’t lessen the force of his bite.”

“What good will that do? I can’t fight him off.” Though you knew it had nothing to do with anything, you added, “I’m an omega. Merfolk might not have the same sub-genders as we do up on the surface—or maybe they do; I don’t know—but if he were human he’d definitely classify as an alpha. Put that into perspective. I can’t. Fight. Him. Off. It’s biologically impossible.”

“So you poke his eyes. Dig your fingers into his gills. He should let go of you then.”

“That’ll hurt him,” you protested, clutching the suit to your chest.

“Not as much as he’ll hurt you.”

You suppose it’s a clinical priority. Survival of the fittest, but it’s the human who has to live. The lab could afford to lose you, but they don't want to. And if they did, they might put the mer down. Shoot him up with enough tranquilizers to keep him comatose. Maybe it only bothered you because, yet again, he’s half-human and no one on the team knows the extent to which he thinks and functions.

To simplify it, they consider him a shark. But like any creature, sharks learn and adapt as they go. Death is instinct.

He will kill you.

But you don’t want to think like that, which is why you put on your best smile and trudge into the enclosure he’s being kept in. The tank looms before you, seawater clear and beamed through with streaks of light from the harsh, glaring LEDs above. The deeper the water gets, the darker the shadows. You press your palm against the glass, observing the murky darkness with a frown. Somewhere in this tank, at a depth you can’t even imagine, is an eel merman. A big, strong, powerful, scary eel merman.

You swallow a steadying breath, curl your fingers into fists, and climb the spiral staircase to get to the attached platform. Your reflection follows you with each step, countenance set in grim confliction. Once you reach the top, you peer out at the surface of the pool, listening to the droning hum of water filters and other hidden machinery. There’s a very shallow part of the tank, a dip in the design that allows for the mer to lounge if he so pleases. You’re reminded of the dolphins in live shows, who slide up onto their stomachs to face an awestruck audience. You doubt that’s what he’ll use this ledge for. If anything, it could allow a researcher to kneel in the shallows while they interact with him at an intimate propinquity.

You don’t plan on being that researcher.

Instead, you pace a healthy distance away from the edge, holding a bucket of his breakfast in one hand and a notebook in the other.

“Um!” You cringe at your voice as it reverberates around you in a nervous echo. Cautiously, you inch towards the water. “I have your food!”

You wait three seconds, expecting him to come bursting up from the darkness like the shark everyone wants to delude themselves into thinking he is. The water remains still and unbroken. You wonder if your voice can even reach such a depth. If not the sound, the vibrations might. Or maybe he’s resting. It’s still relatively early in the morning. Perhaps his sleep schedule is thrown off. Yours would be if you were taken from your home and dumped in a manufactured version of your habitat.

You lurch forwards with the bucket and watch as a collection of shrimp, crab, and small fish soar through the air in a sloppy arc before landing and sinking into the waiting depths below. Nothing happens. The tension in your body ebbs away, and when it becomes clear that he isn’t coming up to greet you and feast on your offering you relax completely, collapsing against the wall with a great sigh.

If they really want to study him, they should just watch him on the security feed, you think, peering up at the camera in one corner of the room, its red eye fixated on you and the surrounding enclosure. He’s not going to come up during the day. Not when there are humans walking around.

Still, you wait your shift out, scribbling nonsense in your notebook and occasionally glancing up to gauge the state of the water.

The mer doesn’t show, so you resolve to try again.

Try you do, and try you have. 

It’s been one week of perfunctory routine, arriving and feeding him at the same time in hopes that he might understand what you’re doing and come up to investigate. Or, at the very least, recognize you’re a recurring figure in his chapter of captivity. You don’t intend on befriending him. You only wish to fulfill your duties as a researcher, however skewed they may have become. Even though you know you ought to be grateful the mer hasn’t caused any problems, you want something to happen. Anything! At this rate, you’d sooner tire yourself out playing with rowdy sea lions than sit around in silence while waiting for an appearance from him.

It’s a quiet Tuesday afternoon when the first beat of unrest hits.

The mer’s enclosure is kept at a comfortable temperature for humans; it’s the water that’s freezing below the surface. So when you step up onto the platform and peer into the chum-infested deep, the empty bucket now set aside, you feel warmer than usual. Odd, considering the room is normally so chilly. Not extremely so, but chilly enough to give way to a pleasant cold.

Tugging at the collar of your shark suit, you cover the distance to stand under a large fan situated just near the dip in the pool. Cool air kisses your heated skin, providing you with much-needed relief, and you peer up at the propellers that spin in endless circles. Around and around and around. Your eyes follow the motions until you dizzy yourself, and you step back on wobbly legs. Your foot misses the metal platform and instead slips into the ledge built in the tank. With a startled yelp you fall backwards, landing in the shallows on your rear.

“Of course,” you mumble, bitter with embarrassment. “Leave it to me to fall right into the predator’s tank.”

You scoot further up onto the ledge, staring at the water below. It’s quite calm here, where the shallows lap languidly at your waist. If you were delusional, you might think this was a jacuzzi pool that you could dip your toes in. It’s not. Of course it isn’t. Not when there’s a beast lurking just below. But while you’re here, you run your hands through the saltwater while your own body temperature rises as if it’s a hungry flame in a stone hearth.

You place your hands on either side of the ledge, intending to push yourself up and onto the platform, when something tightens inside of you. Your heart stumbles in your chest and you lose the strength in your arms at once. With a noisy splash, you flop back into the shallows, your compromised body rigid and shaky with a tingling, all-encompassing warmth. Horrified, you raise two fingers to your pulse to feel it stutter wildly beneath your skin.

Swallowing thickly, you lower your head onto your arms and wait for the feeling to pass. The seconds slip by and in that short amount of time your state seems to worsen. Your temperature is volcanic, your every sense restless, and you’re sweating through the shark suit as if you’ve just run a marathon and more.

“Not now,” you hiss, slapping your hands upon your face. “Please not now. Anything but now…”

You intend to haul yourself up and out for good this time, desperate to get as far from the pool before your brain is completely overrun by your encroaching heat and robust omega instincts, when fingers brush against your leg. Something chitters behind you, a low, slow sort of sound that is shot through with curiosity. You turn as if you’re frozen in ice, your heart in your throat and senses on high alert.

The eel mer is right there, clutching your ankle in a firm grip. Not to hurt you, but to keep you there. And you’re not at all in a hurry to leave. Not when those claws are so close to your calf, capable of shredding through to your very bones. Even with the shark suit, you worry. He stares at you with narrowed eyes, his head angled in a cute, childish way. He appears confused and rightfully so, considering you’re a creature he’s likely never interacted with so closely before. You mirror his befuddlement, your brows furrowed, lips creased in a thin line.

For a long while, the two of you watch each other. If you look past his predatory design, he’s quite pretty with his smoky teal coloration and dark stripes. Your gaze pans over to the water, where a long, powerful tail disappears below. The paranoid side of you says he’s going to drown you, but then he doesn’t seem outwardly malicious in his intentions.

“Um…”

He flinches at the sound of your voice, his head snapping up to your throat and then your lips. Your attempt to pull your captive leg back is thwarted when he lurches, rising out of the water to grab hold of your foot. You gasp and shake your head at him, your senses sharp and dull all at once. Your heat-addled mind just barely parses the threat of danger, looming and ever-present.

“Please,” you beg, your tone sticky and breathless. “Don’t…”

The mer tilts his head the other way. The fins where his ears might be if he were human shiver, as if listening to the desperation in your syllables. He chirrups, lips widening in a sharp-toothed smile, and then he’s dragging you towards him. Panic seizes your nerves and you dig your palms into the smooth basin in an effort to get away. His expression falls when he notices your struggle and he lifts himself onto the ledge with you, draping himself over your legs like an oversized rug.

“Wait… H-Hold on; get off!” You grunt and weakly prod at his chest. He doesn’t budge. “You… You’re heavy!”

His webbed hand closes around your waist, steadying you in the shallows, while his other arm cages you beneath him. Instinctively, you arch into his touch, your breath coming in tiny, frenzied huffs. He clicks at you, and words that you can only assume are meant to be gentle and soothing are produced in a sweet melody. It relaxes you more than you’d like to admit, a lyrical balm to your terror.

You squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself for the worst. For the searing pain and the stinging agony. For the blood that will color the water a dark, foreboding red. For the sight of him merrily tearing into your jugular, his maw spattered with crimson. But none of that ever comes. He cradles your face next, his thumb running along your cheekbone, and slowly you peel your eyes open. His face is inches from yours, looking on with an intensity that’s almost primal.

Warily, you lift your arm out of the water and touch his hand. It’s much bigger in contrast to yours, but he’s handling you with such immaculate tenderness.

“You’re not going to hurt me…” you mutter, amazed. “You’re just curious.”

As if responding, he chitters. You nod even though you have no idea what he said. He doesn’t smell like an alpha or an omega or a beta. You’re not even sure if he’s capable of releasing pheromones, but if he were you’re certain it would have driven you much crazier than you already feel.

You hold his stare and reach up to pat his cheek, and he leans into your careful touch. Your hand soon trails down to trace his lateral lines, which earns you a pleased hum. You watch in awe as the gills on either side of his body flutter.

Led on by your own wonder, you follow the pattern to his waist and press your thumbs into his hip bones beneath smooth, slippery skin. “How fascinating… I wonder if it’s possible to take an X-ray. Would you allow—oh!”

Clumsily, he lifts you into his arms to embrace you, rolling his hips against the chainmail shark suit. Your breath hitches, and you fumble to grasp his broad shoulders.

“Ah, w-wait. I’m not… You can’t…”

He clicks thrice and lowers you into the shallows, his face scrunched in annoyance. You think he might’ve understood you, but then he’s palming between your legs and it occurs to you that he wants the suit off. Carnal delight shivers through you at the prospect of being wanted to such a degree, and though you know it’s the heat muddling your sensibility you can’t help indulging him just a little. You undo the zip at the back and slide it from your body, revealing your shoulders and bare arms for his wandering, mismatched hues. He leans in to nose at your scent glands, chattering happily as he inhales. You can’t understand a word, but he sounds pleased—even more so when he runs his hands along your arms, squeezing and petting in equal measure.

His tongue laves across your neck, and what fragile restraint you have left snaps. You cling to him like he’s your anchor, meeting his searching hips halfway with every awkward thrust that doesn’t quite connect as it should. You chew your lip, tamping down a torrent of filthy moans. Your mind is clouded with lust and instinct, and you dig your fingers into his hair, holding him against your neck while he continues to lick and nip.

It feels right up until the haze parts momentarily, allowing temporary sobriety when you spy the tip of something poking free of its encasing. Dazed and inquisitive, you reach between your bodies to prod at his slit, hoping to coax more of his prehensile cock from out of its folds. But then the door below opens and the mer lifts himself from off of you, his head turning in the direction of the sound at an alarming speed. You blink up at him, lazily following his line of sight. His lip curls up in a silent snarl, the beginnings of razored teeth peeking out, and then he slithers back into the water, his hands lingering on your ankles.

Despite the dizziness you sit up, your arm outstretched. “Wait, don’t go!”

I didn’t get to cum yet. You didn’t even claim me either…

He peers at you, neutral for all of a minute before swimming over to you. He presses his face into your palm, chittering softly. There are footsteps on the stairs, and he grits his teeth, withdrawing completely before turning and diving under in a spray of seawater.

You fall back into the shallows, panting like a starved, feral monster. A researcher comes to your aid, her expression equal parts shocked and disturbed. You don’t catch her questions, each one tacked onto what feels like a ceaseless rant, while she helps you to your feet. Something about danger. About heats. About omega biology. About how the researchers watched the both of you on the cameras, swelling with queries of their own.

“I’m not sure,” you mumble as you’re helped down the stairs, stumbling in a heat-drunken stupor. Thankfully, your fellow researcher is an omega like you and that relaxes the hypersensitive part of you—the part that fears being taken advantage of when you’re vulnerable like this. But the needier, greedier part of you wants the mer—wants his hands and mouth all over you, ripping you free from your suit and indulging in the bare skin beneath. “I think he...wanted to help…”

No one can explain his behavior. But it seems promising.

While you’re led from the room, the eel mer stalks you from the gloomy confines of his tank.

In the days following your heat, you return to the marine lab with your head on your shoulders and are immediately barraged with requests. Amongst all of them, one common demand stands out: You have to get him up to the surface again. Part of you doesn’t want to face the mer again. When you truly mulled over that day, tossed the memory of it around in your mind like it was a tennis ball, you were hit with shame.

It’s not…normal. Researchers do not tangle themselves in sexual situations with their subjects, especially when said subject was an eel mer from the Coral Sea. It’s unheard of. Luckily, the team of researchers you work with swears to secrecy. You were out of it and your judgment wasn’t in the best state. That’s the excuse they’re using. It works enough to push the humiliation from your thoughts.

You wonder if you should feel disgusted by the events. Rather, you didn’t mind it. For all of his rough, scarred, monstrous edges, he was gentle.

You press your fingers to your scent glands, recalling the feel of his tongue.

Today you’ve donned your usual work attire, foregoing the shark suit and any other protective gear the lab expects you to wear. Something tells you you won’t need it anymore. Not after everything that happened the day you went into heat.

Feeling rejuvenated and refreshed after your mini break, you trudge up the staircase with a food bucket, determined to finally fill your notebook with data. You’ve only made it up four steps when color flashes in your peripheral. You turn and find the mer is at your eye level, following you up the spiral staircase adjacent to his tank.

You pause and wave experimentally. He watches your hand move to and fro and then he mirrors your actions. He swims the rest of the distance to the surface, breaching it just as you make it onto the platform.

“Good morning, Mister,” you greet, bending down to empty the contents of the bucket into the water.

Disinterested, he watches bits of shrimp sink deeper. And then he looks back to you, his mouth opening and shutting. “Fu… Fu…” he forces out, his face scrunched in concentration.

“Fu…? Food?” 

He nods and then shakes his head, hissing at himself in what you think might be admonishment. 

“Fu…ro…”

“Furo?” You set the bucket aside and scoot closer to the edge. “What’s that?”

He tries once more before the syllables fizzle out on his tongue and, with a few frustrated clicks, he swipes a fish from the surface and stuffs it in his mouth. You giggle, and the sound has him tilting his head. Without a shred of apprehension, he meets you at the ledge. You watch him munch on the fish between his lips, content to observe in silence. He polishes it off rather quickly before procuring a handful, which he dumps onto the ground beside you. You shake your head at him, smiling weakly.

“Thanks, but no. It’s all yours.”

The mer shrugs and indulges without you.

“I should thank you for not hurting me back then,” you add. He pays close attention to your lips; you think he might be attempting to read them while listening. “Um… But don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not sure if merfolk are like humans, but we have this system… Or not a system… It’s more like…groupings? Secondary classifications?” You frown. How can you explain the complexities of sub-genders to a mer who doesn’t even speak your language? “Basically, I was in trouble and you helped me out. Kind of. In any case, thank you.”

He stares at you for a while, chewing and swallowing. You think he might swim back under once he’s finished, but instead he places his hands on the ledge and hoists himself up on his arms. He’s in your face next, all eager smiles and chitters.

“Fu… Furo. Furo…ido. Furoido,” he sounds out.

You read his lips in the best way you can before it finally clicks. “Ah! Floyd, right? Is that…your name?”

Floyd points to himself, makes a few upbeat clicks, and then nods. He’s pointing at you next.

“And me? Oh, my name is (Name).” You take your time sounding it out for him, and he repeats it with an awkward tongue. You smile and nod encouragingly. “That’s it. That’s me.”

He flops back into the water with a celebratory trill, a wild smile tugging at his lips. You watch him swim laps from you to the opposite end of the pool and back. Ditching the shark suit was the right call. You’re no longer uncertain. This time, you know for a fact that you’re going to be getting along very well with him.

And you look forward to fostering this flowering friendship.

[persefolli]

Hi can I request a Tonowari x fem human x Jake where’s she’s much smaller than them and very innocent and they like that they can keep her close to them and tower over her and hide her from the other males as they’re very protective over her and get jealous easily and they love to always be touching her tanned skin whenever they’re near her or talking to other clan members and they’re not afraid to touch her large chest in public secretly giving her little squeezes there too finding her little reactions very adorable. One day Tonowari and Jake discusses something privately and they ask her if she wants to take a ride on their animals for the first time she agrees but they have one condition for her which is that they’d prefer her to be naked because they love how soft and small she is and can’t get enough of her and her body and gets on sitting in front of Tonowari on his Tsurak and he can’t keep his hands to himself and then on the way back she flies with Jake on his Ikran and he’s more touchy than Tonowari or something along those lines thanks 😊

𝐀/𝐧: 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐦𝐩 𝐦𝐞!!!! 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐨 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐣𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐧𝐨𝐭? 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐦𝐩 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐱 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖, 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐍𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @ms5m1th, @18lkpeters, @yukichan67, @laylasbunbunny, @jakesullyscocksleeve, @neteyamyawne, @fanboyluvr, @letsloveimagines, @xylianasblog, @papichulo120627

“We hit them at the left flank and that will wipe out most of their ground firepower. After we hit that, we attack from above, knocking them from their boats and planes and having the sea team hit their marks in the water.” Jake moved around little figurines around the map he had spread on the table.

Most of the council had learned to ignore the presence of the curious human that peeked out from behind Jake to see what everyone was looking at. “Once we take control of the boat, we disable the navigation systems and dock it behind the mountain so it can’t be seen before the island. Got it?”

Everyone at the table nodded before filing out of the pod. Jake had his war paint on already, and went to go clip on his vest. You went over to his bins and picked up a large automatic rifle, walking over and handing it to him.

“Hey, you know I don’t like you handling these.” He lightly scolded you.

Tonowari walked in with his spear and nodded at Jake. “We’re all set. Inbound is 40 minutes.”

You wished as a human you could help them, but when there was war at the front door, they didn't want you nearby.

Jake kneeled to your height and held you by the back of your thighs. “You stay here and keep working on your little project, kay. Don't leave this pod.” He kneaded your thighs. Tonowari walked over and placed a tender kiss on your head, before walking out the door.

“We come back in one piece, we'll have a little fun, okay?” He smiled and you found yourself blushing. He tapped your thighs before exiting the pod as well.

As promised, your lovers came back early the next morning, bruised and battered, but back in one piece like they promised.

Jake scooped you up without a word and laid down in the cot with you sitting in his lap. Tonowari leaned his spear against the wall and laid beside Jake, exhausted. You leaned down and lodged yourself between the two men, staying there so they could be comforted after the long battle.

That night, a big banquet was thrown. The Metkayina were hooting loudly and dancing expressively as yet another victory was won against the Sky people. You sat behind your two lovers, eating and watching the na’vi in amusement. Jake turned back to look at you, scanning the mask on your face, then looking at the band on your wrist before turning back to the ceremony.

“Why can’t we dance? We should join in.”

“You would get trampled. That is why we are not joining in.” Jake said sternly.

You looked down at your outfit. “I’m wearing bright green. I’ll be careful.” You began to whine. “It's not safe little one.” Tonowari chimed in.

A frown began to plague your face, falling silent behind the two. A large hand made its way to your chin, “Hey, don’t do that.” Jake frowned with you

“If you want to dance it will be in the comfort of our own home, not out here where someone can take you from us.” Tonowari turned to you. They noted the frown wasn’t letting up and moved to comfort you, physically.

Tonowari squeezed your thigh and Jake caressed the back of your neck..

“You two always say that.” You mumbled. “That someone will take me. They're not even paying attention to me.”

“You’d be surprised.” Jake scoffed. “Most na’vi haven't even seen a human before. You would be like a pet to them.

Jake was being negative again. He knew it was manipulative of him to discourage you so often like this, pointing out the flaws in other na’vi and implanting the ‘what ifs’ in your mind. But Jake was selfish, and he couldn't stand to see you with anyone other than him, or Tonowari. Tonowari had a similar stance when it came to you being around the other na’vi.

As somewhat of a rebellious front, you went running on the beach after the ceremony was over, leading them behind you instead of going right home. You reached down and balled some sand in your hands before standing up and throwing it at Jake’s thigh. He turned and stared at you before bending down himself. You squealed in anticipation and began running. Jake chased after you with a large clump of sand in his hands. With him having longer legs, he caught up to you in no time. You fell, obviously, and Jake dropped the pile of sand over your head, coating you in the grittiness.

Tonowari chuckled slightly before pulling you up by your arm, kneeling down and rubbing the sand off with his hands. One thing he knew about sand and human skin, is that it stuck, and it got everywhere, even the not so nice places. Jake worked up top, making sure your oxygen mask was sealed and no sand got in the filter. Tonowari ran his hands along your thighs and ass, swiping off the sand.

You flushed slightly feeling both of their hands on you. “Wanna get in the water?” Tonowari pulled at the strap of your top, causing you to quickly hold the fabric down. “Sure.” You responded, but yelped, feeling a sharp smack on your ass. You looked back at Jake who had a smug look on his face.

The three of you swam sandwiched together in the ocean. Pressed against one another, floating, and watching the eclipse take over the sky. At this point there weren’t many na’vi on the beach, and the three of you got more than enough privacy. Tonowari hoisted you up in the water and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist.

He caught your lips in a passionate kiss, and you returned the affection, running your arms along his shoulders. “Let's have some fun, yeah?” He said when pulling away. He tilted his head and latched on your neck, causing you to go sucking on your bottom lip.

“N-not here!” You stammered.

Tonowari whistled, and ripples appeared in the ocean, getting closer and closer, until… “Hey!” You held your arm out as you were sprayed with water by Tonowari’s Tsurak. You gasped realizing that they were allowing you to ride it for the first time.

“Really?!”

“Mhm. We know you’ve been dying to try it.” Jake held onto the mouth of the Tsurak, keeping it steady for you and Wari to mount it. You reached out to pet the creature but Tonowari grabbed your wrist.

“On one condition.”

“Anything.”

His hands trailed down the sides of your body and he began untying your bikini straps. You let out a short gasp when he untied your top next. He hoisted you onto his Tsurak before climbing on behind you. Jake whistled and called his own over, riding next to the two of you.

You hesitantly reached forward to its snout and stroked it softly. Tonowari guided your hands to the straps, which he never used, and tightened his legs around you.

“Take it easy. No sudden movements.” He warned you. Jake led the three of you past the rocks, and into the deep ocean. The water glided through your toes and you felt at peace away from the bounds of the reef.

“Can we go fast?” You asked.

“Fast?” Tonowari scoffed. “You wouldn't be able to handle that sweetheart.”

“But you guys do it all the time. Even Norman got to do it!” You partially whined. You were starting to get tired of hearing the word no, or anything relating to it.

“Pressure is different here.” Jake turned on his Tsurak. “Norman has only ever rode in his avatar form. A Tsuraks full speed is what mach speed is on earth. I'm sorry baby, you wouldn't be able to handle it without being injured.” Jake explained.

You fell silent and went limp against Tonowari. Tonowari sighed and placed his hands under your armpits. “Sit up little one. Don't be like that.” He sighed.

“Pass her to me.” Jake held out both his arms. Tonowari effortlessly gave you over to Jake, and he put you between his legs before wrapping the lead around his hand a few times and clenching his thighs around yours.

“Jake, this is not wise.”

“If she wants fast, I’ll give her fast.”

He hooted and the Tsurak went flying forward. You gasped and felt yourself being pushed against Jake. The pressure was unlike anything you ever felt before. You were unable to move against the wind, and your mouth began to open from the harsh winds. It was like a rollercoaster, which you haven't rode in years. You giggled against Jake and he finally slowed down. Your hair was messy and your jewelry was blown out of place, but you had a smile on your face.

“That was fun!”

Both Na’vi exchanged a look of relief. Jake kept his arm around your waist, pulling you back into him as you two treaded the water.

That night the three of you rode off to a nearby cove, one that overlooked the sea. Tonowari gave Jake a break and took you into his arms, squeezing you tightly against him and caressing the side of your torso.

“We only ever want to protect you little one.” Tonowari placed a single kiss on your forehead.

[garbagegarbagefruit]

eye for an eye

Zoro x Sanji

✦ Summary: Sanji finds Zoro on Sabaody. Zoro realizes that something about the cook has changed, but he can't put his finger on it. His determination to find out exactly what it is pushes them to share a few moments that neither of them would have anticipated two years ago. But a lot has changed since the last time they were here, hasn't it?

✦ Word Count: 3.7k

✦ Warnings: light spoilers for the time skip and fishman island, light angst, references to past fights (Thriller Bark, Sabaody)

✦ Notes: I saw this beautiful art of Sanji with heterochromia and I wanted to write the moment that Zoro realizes this about him. I'm not up to date yet (just finished dressrosa) but if you like it pls let me know and I'll think about writing a part two once I've got all the lore from Sanji's backstory!

this is my first piece of writing for one piece - critiques welcome but pls be nice:)

✦ AO3 Link

divider by @drinkthesky

Zoro caught a glimpse of something golden, glittering in the sun above the surface. The pirate ship he had so unceremoniously slashed in half parted the water around them and released a flurry of bubbles as it pushed its way up. The two halves of the ship emerged, sending furious waves and a shower of salty droplets in every direction. 

The source of that opulent shimmer stood on the cliff side, staring down at him with an insufferable smirk. The crew of the ruined ship were trying to give Zoro an earful but he ignored them. He was busy studying his crewmate, cataloging every change, utterly overwhelmed by the sheer relief of seeing one of his family again. 

The cook had gotten taller, bulkier - rigorous training evident in the fit of his clothes. He had the same nonsensical, curling eyebrows and signature cloud of cigarette smoke circling his head like a misshapen halo. The sun gilded his shaggy blonde hair and illuminated his one visible eye. It was Sanji, unmistakably. 

However, amidst the familiarity, there was some change that Zoro couldn't put his finger on. Something striking, and yet he couldn't name it. He wondered, briefly, if his scar had struck the cook in the same way. But Sanji didn't mention it. Flicking his gaze over the cook's form, he checked for new scars and found none.

There was no time to dwell on it. A barrage of classic insults and scolding greeted him from the blonde’s mouth and he found himself falling into old patterns like they had never been separated. Whatever the change was, though, it lodged itself in the back of his mind and insisted on resurfacing periodically even as the pair found themselves running toward an explosion that almost certainly meant Luffy was close. 

Now that they were reunited, he had all the time in the world to spend with his crew, because he was never going to let them be separated like that again. The problem was the desperation crawling under his skin. The need to know every change that occurred, even though each one would settle heavy in his belly like a stone. Weighing him down with the knowledge that the time they had spent apart was simply gone.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It was still bothering him, hours later. After the crew had reunited, escaped attacks from seemingly all sides, and begun their descent into the sea. 

Beneath the ocean, the world was surreal and beautiful. It was like they were being rewarded for all their hard work, all that time apart. They had hours to bask in the scenery and simply be together. So many days out of the last seven-hundred-something were spent wondering what the crew was up to, and now those empty spaces could be filled in.

Sitting on the grass of the Sunny, Zoro watched the filtered sunlight shift and change with the moving water as they continued to sink deeper into the ocean. Shadows of fish and seaweed danced in a rhythm with the wavering light, the resin coating casting its iridescent glow across every inch of the ship. He was filled with nothing but quiet contentment, as the thing that had been driving him for the last two years had finally been satisfied. He was with his family again. 

That should be the only thought in his mind, and yet every time he looked in Sanji's direction, he was reminded of that thing he could not figure out. He didn't particularly want to give Sanji any extra attention at the moment. He lay pathetically sprawled on his back with blood pouring out of his face from his stupid perverted tendencies. But then the blonde opened his eyes, gaze following Chopper’s pointed hoof to a school of fish as it crossed above their bubble. A beam of light kissed his features, catching his uncovered eye and illuminating the iris like a gemstone. 

Zoro's breath caught in his throat, his lungs filling with something angry and burning. So, he did the only thing he knew to do when he was feeling bothered - he picked a fight. 

Some senseless, muttered remark thrown the cook's way escalated seamlessly into a shouting match and from there into sparring. Zoro was immediately scolded by the little doctor for going after Sanji in his injured state. But that only spurred Sanji's ego, and Chopper left them to it with a sigh. 

From the start, it was obvious that Sanji was not at his usual strength due to the blood loss. He was not weaker by much, just enough for Zoro to get what he wanted. Later, they'd fight for real and find out just what kind of training had occurred during their time apart. But right now, Zoro had a single goal.

However, the cook had started to suspect that something was up from the oddly determined look in the swordsman's steely eyes. He fought to keep distance between them as Zoro's advances invaded his space and pushed him further and further back.

Zoro regrouped and attacked with more fervor, leaving no room for retaliation. He kept his focus on Sanji's face, determined to catch another glimpse of crystalline eyes. Sanji only grew more defensive under the extra attention, desperate to get out from under the swordsman's stare. 

"Just let me see," Zoro grumbled, growing sweaty and frustrated as the cook evaded him again. He had not intended to say the words out loud. 

"See what? " Sanji demanded. 

He faltered for a split second and his fate was sealed. Zoro gained the upper hand and Sanji went flying backwards, landing at the edge of the grass with a dull thump. Zoro wasted no time, throwing himself down to sit on his legs and hooking his own knees and ankles under and around to keep the cook from escaping. Both wrists were caught and held tightly in Zoro's grasp, and he let out a triumphant huff as Sanji cursed. 

"Why are you being so weird?" Sanji barked, wriggling in Zoro's grasp. 

His legs may be strong, but Zoro had placed his full weight on them and he had certainly gained more muscle in the last two years. Sanji noted this with irritation, resolving to find out exactly how much Zoro weighed these days so he could make that his new training goal. 

Zoro didn't answer the question. The intensity in his gaze did not waver as he leaned forward and pushed Sanji's bangs to the side with his free hand. It was a little rougher than he meant, though he upheld the belief that his hands were not made to be gentle. 

"What the fuck?" Zoro scowled, eyebrows drawn tightly together. 

The answer to his own burning question lay beneath him, flushed and swearing under his breath as Zoro studied his features. It was strange and almost startling to see his whole face at once. Framed by those ridiculous curling brows, one eye glittered a beautiful green-blue, a perfect match to the ocean surrounding them. One was brown, lit up in tones of molten honey by the meager sunlight. The swordsman's eye widened, his grip on Sanji's loosening. 

He was more surprised that he was right than anything - he had been certain he'd never seen that shade of amber before. When he closed his eyes and pictured Sanji, it was always with that teal-blue. 

Not that he was picturing Sanji with his eyes closed, ever. 

" What? " Sanji spat. He used Zoro's momentary shock to wriggle out from under his grasp and scramble out of reach, hair falling back into place. He panted, catching his breath as he matched Zoro's scowl and waited for an explanation. 

"Why are they different?" Zoro's frown did not ease.

"They've always been different," Sanji rolled his visible eye, voice dripping with disdain and something that sounded a little like surprise. "You seriously never noticed?"

"How was I supposed to? You always have your hair in the way!” Zoro retorted, standing to his feet and crossing his arms over his chest. He refused to accept the embarrassment that was attempting to sink its way under his skin. There was no way Sanji had two different colored eyes and he had never noticed.

Then again. When he thought back to any time before Thriller Bark, there was a film over his memories. As if, before he'd thrust his hands into that bubble, he'd only ever been half awake. Indeed, there was something about Sanji now, whether it be the surreal lighting of the deep sea, or the new information, that made him seem so much more vivid than before. 

"Figures, idiot marimo," Sanji sat back against the deck railing, procuring cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. Zoro's eyes followed his movements, a little dazzled by his vibrancy. "The only things you notice are booze and swords."

Zoro scoffed, but didn't try to refute it. It was true. At least, before . Not now, though. He had spent the last two years painfully conscious and he would not be going back to sleep now. 

"Why'd you switch your hair like that anyways?" Zoro heard himself ask. 

He leaned his hip against the railing, staring down at the cook through a haze of smoke. It was quiet for a minute, that honey eye focused on something far away. Zoro had started to wonder if he'd really spoken his question out loud when he heard a quiet, resigned sigh. 

"Never liked my brown eye," Sanji shrugged one shoulder, a delicate pink creeping over his cheeks and ears as he continued, "But while I was gone, someone told me they liked it. I just thought I would try something new. It's not a big deal."

The averted gaze and slight waver in his voice gave the cook away. Zoro would have known anyway, without those clues. It was a big deal. When had he ever seen Sanji change his routine? His mannerisms, turns of phrase? Even his suit was the same style that he had always worn. It may have even been one of the same ones from two years ago. 

There was something there to be pieced together, taking shape in between all of the things that hadn't been said. Sanji was saying the same thing Zoro had been thinking for two years. This small change had been made like a vow. That nothing would ever be the same. 

Zoro opened his mouth, words hanging off the tip of his tongue. A compliment. A thank you. Something to acknowledge the weight of this exchange. An offering of his own vulnerability - anything he could give to even things out. Sanji did not give him the chance. Whether he had someone read his expression or not, Zoro didn’t know. But he cut him off, the words coming out in a rush. 

“You owe me for this.” 

“For what?!” Zoro sputtered, indignant, certain that he had not done anything wrong.

“For getting in my personal space,” He said, matter of fact, “And being a freak.”

He stood with a huff before the swordsman could respond, shoving his hands into his pockets and angling his body away. He threw over his shoulder in a tone of pure ice, 

"If you tell anyone else or try to tease me for this, I'll break your fucking swords over my knee.”

With that, the blonde returned to the others, clothes smoothed and posture straightened like nothing of importance had just passed between them. Nobody questioned him, chalking up the fight to their typical bickering. It was so convincing that Zoro started to second guess himself. Maybe Sanji really didn't care.  

But either way, Zoro himself was stunned, scrambling to figure out how to move forward while balancing the delicate thing that Sanji had placed in his hands. The cook may have tried to veil its importance but his hollow threat betrayed him. If there was no trust between them, there would have been no confession at all. 

That small secret had already burrowed itself deep into Zoro's chest, close to Kuina's dream. 

Kuina's dream, in contrast, was heavy like a boulder. A boulder that had been thrust upon his shoulders and that he carried with him each day, pursuing with ferocity and equal measures of blood and sweat and tears. 

This was something else. Smaller, softer. Something that wouldn't be heavy so carry. Like a pearl, made of glass and fished from the mysterious depths of the ocean. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Zoro closed his good eye and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Behind him, the bacchanal carried on. He breathed deep, grateful for the respite offered by this alcove. The tall windows of the palace painted the balcony with patches of warm light, glittering against the empty glass bottles strewn over the stairs. 

The crew, in various combinations of duos and trios, made their way out here throughout the night for a breath of fresh air. Nami and Usopp had gone back to the party a while ago, but Zoro had remained on his own, appreciative of the cool quiet. If he listened, he could pick out their drunken laughter from among the other raucous partygoers. And with his eye closed, he could find the shape of their auras, shining brighter than all the others.

He smiled as those glowing auras danced, safe and carefree. There was a lot to think about, a lot waiting for them back on the surface. But they had done good work for fishman island. And most importantly, they were all here . Together again and celebrating after a job well done. Just like before, like no time had passed at all. Or at least, it was easier to pretend that nothing had changed.

Approaching footsteps interrupted his focus, his spine tensed out of instinct. Then he registered the familiar click of the cook’s dress shoes, and his shoulders dropped. He did not need haki to recognize that sound. But he kept his eye closed anyways, watching the marbled shape draw closer. It had such vivid colors, like shades of amber and honey against a cloudless sky. 

His eyelid fluttered open, and there was Sanji, standing above him. Glassy-eyed, rosy-cheeked, with his hands in his pockets and a lit cigarette dangling precariously from his crooked smile. 

"I know what I want," Sanji announced by way of greeting, pointing a finger too close to Zoro's face. He was tipsy, enough for every sentence to string together into a lilting accent, a few words that Zoro didn't know sometimes making their way in. 

"What?" Zoro asked, gaze falling to Sanji's mouth to watch how he formed the words. The swordsman wasn't exactly sober, either.

"For my IOU, mosshead. I know what I want," Sanji said, oblivious to Zoro's inner monologue. He smelled like wine, his lips tinted a plummy color.

"And?" 

Zoro was not exactly sure what he was expecting, but it was not for Sanji to plop down next to him and lean in close. One pale hand reached for his face, clumsily clinking his golden earrings together before landing a little roughly against a sharp, bronze cheekbone. Curling eyebrows drew together as a thumb swept over the deep scar interrupting Zoro's skin. From his forehead, carving a jagged line through his eyebrow, over the delicate skin of his eyelid, and halfway down to his jaw.

"I want to know what happened to your eye. Because you won’t tell anybody," Sanji informed him. Then he snorted to himself and giggled, "An eye for an eye."

Zoro's heartbeat quickened. Of course it would, if someone who only reached for him in order to start a fight suddenly invaded his personal space. His body was reacting to a threat. And that accent was driving him crazy. He didn't know where it was from. It made him want to pry the cook open and hunt for every secret that he kept hidden between his ribs. 

Sanji fed the crew every day. He kept them all alive. He was their lifeline, and yet Zoro barely knew anything about him. Did the others know any more than him? It was a thought that had been rattling around in his mind since he had learned of the cook's heterochromia. (A word that Robin had taught him, and that he had horribly misunderstood at first.)

"Well?" Sanji's voice startled Zoro from his contemplation. 

Nothing happened. 

It was his first instinct, but the words stopped halfway up his throat. He couldn't do that to the cook again, watch his face contort like Zoro had pierced his chest with an arrow. He cleared his throat and conjured up a different answer. One that would move him out from under the intensity of Sanji's gaze, but buy him a little time to gather himself before he had to pry open that part of his memory. With care, he wrapped his fingers around the cook's wrist and lifted that curious hand away.

"I'll tell you someday," Zoro said quietly, his voice gravelly with some emotion he didn't know the name of. "When I'm ready."

Sanji stared at him for a moment, seemingly considering. Then he shrugged and took another drag of his cigarette. 

"That's fair," He said, smoke pouring out between his teeth as his eyes flicked over the swordsman's face, openly studying the scar. "But I'm going to hold you to it. Don't think I won't remember just because I'm a tiiiiiny bit tipsy."

Zoro snorted at that, earning him a half-hearted kick that smarted more than he'd ever admit. Sanji had gotten much, much stronger. He didn't bother hitting back.

"You don't usually drink so much," He said instead, shifting his focus to something far away, starting to grow uncomfortable under Sanji's relentless stare. He failed to see the parallel between this moment and his own scrutinizing glare pinning the blonde to the lawn of the Sunny. 

"Happy," Sanji said in response, his cheeks rosy as he offered a lopsided grin. Placing his cigarette between his lips, he breathed deep and let his head fall back. Three defined rings of smoke rose from his pursed lips, floating for a second before dissipating into the night air.  

"Show off," Zoro muttered, averting his gaze as he tried and failed to keep his own lips from turning upwards, affected by the cook's contagious mood.

"Only for you," Sanji laughed, the sound closer to a bubbling giggle. He looked at Zoro again, and all of that mirth slipped away into a seriousness. Like he couldn't stop thinking about Zoro's scar for long. "Is your eye still...."

He trailed off, wincing like he could feel the injury himself. 

"Open it," Zoro said. 

Sanji grimaced, but he took the offer. His touch was impossibly gentle, the skin of his hands smooth and warm, contrasting with the cool metal of his rings. He rested his hand on Zoro's cheek with much more care than the first time, fingertips brushing his hairline as he gingerly pushed up the scarred eyelid with his thumb. 

That softness filled Zoro's chest with a wave of something strong and urgent. He was watching the cook’s face as he carried out his investigation, and damn those eyes really were something. He was less careful in his wine-induced stupor, letting his bangs show more of his face than usual. And the swordsman was reminded that his eyes were like nothing he’d seen before. It was not just their striking contrast, but the unreal saturation of each hue. Like gemstones, he’d thought before. Like aquamarine and tiger’s eye. 

His thoughts about gemstones were cut short as he watched Sanji frown at what he saw, drawing his touch away as softly as he'd placed it. Sanji had always been Zoro's antithesis. If Zoro's hands were made to be rough, stained with blood and cruelty, then Sanji's must be meant to be just like this . Zoro silently vowed to keep them that way.

"It's-"

"Glass," Zoro finished for him, "They said it'd help the tissue heal better. Doesn't seem like my eyelid wants to work any more, though. I don't really care either way."

"Does it make it harder? To fight?"

"No," Zoro said, a little too quickly, "It won't."

He paused, and then swallowed hard, waiting to see if Sanji would acknowledge what he had just confessed. Praying that Sanji might understand what Zoro had given him. The same thing the cook had gifted him, only a few days ago.

He dared one last glance into that honey brown eye, and was met with a solemnity that rattled him. It was gone in a flash as Sanji looked away, taking a deep breath and leaning back on his elbows, head tilting once more toward the sky. 

Zoro followed suit, laying flat on his back. The marble offered a welcome coolness against his heated skin. His heart was racing so wildly he worried Sanji could somehow feel it through the stone. 

Something was beginning to grow in the warm biome of his chest, growing roots around his heart. A beginning, so tangible and overwhelming he could only brace himself and let it wash over him. 

He remembered the last time he felt like this. The sound of his swords clattering to the ground as he swallowed Luffy's dream and exhaled his own. When he traded his life to Kuma in exchange for his captain's freedom. He had realized in that moment that Luffy had started something bigger than any of them. Bigger than any of them could even comprehend. The scale of Luffy's influence on the world had crashed into him as harshly as the pain had. And he had known that this was only the start of everything to come - the good and the bad.

He felt it again, now, as his pulse raced under his skin, Sanji's warmth bleeding into his side where they weren't even touching. Something was beginning, here. Something that made him feel wide awake, twice as alive. His hands twitched with the desire to protect it, whatever it was. To hold it tight within his grasp. 

He thought back to the moment he had seen Sanji's other eye for the first time. And as the cook closed the gap between them and leaned his knee against Zoro's, the same words he had thought then became etched into his being. 

Nothing would ever be the same.

[heartpiratedrabbles]

Shanks Touch

Prompt: Shanks visits your village after being away for a long time and in classic Shanks fashion a party ensues.

Requested by Anonymous

NSFW

Shanks X Male Reader

It had been a long while since Shanks appeared on the shores of your island. Many moons coming and going before you got word of the warlord checking in on one of his many territories. Your heart skipped a bit as you watched the horizon for any sign of his ship. The island always seemed to be more chipper when he was around, a never-ending party as Shanks would gleefully find any excuse to continue drinking.

         It took 3 mornings, but finally you could see it. The Red Hair Jolly Roger waving in the wind, it’d only be an hour or so until his ship would be docked, and everyone about seemed to be prepping for their arrival. Every tavern fully stocked, and more shipments expected to arrive soon, fully expecting to be drank out of house and home.

         The towns people’s happy faces talking of Shanks greatest feats as the town square looked like it was preparing for a festival. You, yourself were helping set up lodging, knowing the pirate crew would be passing out on land after being on the sea for so long. The towns mayor more than happy to gather tribute money for the protection the Red Hairs Flag offers us.

         Finally, you hear the bell ring through the town, the ship docking as his crew unloads the boat of treasures and booze. You run towards the dock, staying to the back of the crowd as you glance through faces to find the familiar red hair, his tall-tale laugh reaching your ears as you see him a couple dozen paces away.

         Your feet freezing in place when you see him smiling while talking to other townsfolk, a tug on your heart before you force yourself forward, determined to make yourself known. Before you can even get near him you hear him call your name, his attention turning towards you as he walks up to you. He bends down, easily picking you despite the one arm and twisting you around. “Shanks!” You say with a smile plastered on your face.

         “How I’ve missed you!” Shanks laughs out while putting you down, “This calls for a celebration!” His hand raising in triumph as you could see Benn sighing heavily behind him. The next few moments seem to move too quickly as you’re swept with the crowd, Shanks keeping a hold of your shoulder as he walks towards his favorite tavern.

         It isn’t lost on you how his hand ghosts your back before resting itself on your ass. A subtle squeeze as he leans closer to you. “I’m assuming by Benn’s reaction that you were already ‘celebrating’ on deck?” You laugh out, twisting your neck to look at him as you grab his hand, moving it to your hip.

         “He’s just a Sourpuss that I drank an entire keg” His booming laughter filled your ears as the entire town was swept into a rhythm of his making. Shanks leads you to the back of the tavern, sitting in an corner with a large round table, his men filling in the rest of the seats as tankards full of Rum and Vodka were placed in front of them.

         He pulls you onto his laugh, his arm wrapping possessively around your waist as he pulls you flush against him, his head leaning over your shoulder as you grab his cards for him, holding them only for him to see while he sips his drink. Cheering and laughing ringing through the building while you help him play poker, his hand laying on your hip as he grinds into you.

         It isn’t until a couple of drinks in that you feel him sink his hand into your pants, a blush rushing to your face as you glance to see if anyone notices, his fingers delicately brushing against the skin of your dick, a twitch into his hands as you suck in a breath. “I’m glad to see I’m not the only one happy to see you~” Shanks whispers into your ear, grinding his own hardon into you as you hide your face behind the cards in your hand.

         His thumb running over your delicate tip as you attempt to keep playing while distracted, moving one of your legs so he has easier access to do as he pleases. Shanks lips pressing against your jawline and neck as you press yourself into him.

         You can feel Shanks grin into your skin as he tightens his hold around you, a playful tug making you yearn for more, “Kid it’s your turn.” You slap a random card down, not caring about the game anymore as your head leans back onto Shanks’ shoulder, your free hand wrapping around to rake your fingers through his hair, a low groan escaping your lips.

         “Is there something you need darling?” His hushes whisper pressed against your neck as he leaves a bruising mark in his wake. Slow, deliberate strokes driving you insane as you try to thrust into his touch, “Remember you have to play properly,” His slight taunt making your ears ring as you open your eyes, glancing at the table. Most seem unfazed, others glancing but returning to their cards as the rest of the Tavern continues to party on.

         Huffing as you feel him teasing you, changing pressures as he continues to pump his hand, Shanks enjoying watching you unravel. Straightening your back as you scootch a little bit off his lap, your hand dipping behind you to palm the outside of his pants just as he quickens his pace.

         “Getting daring, aren’t we?” Shanks whispers, nipping at your earlobe as he ruts up into your palm, his grip becoming tight, a finger dancing over the slit of your sensitive tip as you choke on your breath.

         He pulls you back against him fully, jerking you faster as you lean against the table, your face in your arms as your hand barely holds onto the cards in your hand, your legs dangling on either side of him. Biting your lip to hold back your labored breathing as your release quickly approaches.

         Grinding your hips into his touch as you feel the pressure building, Shanks hand quickly glides down your shaft, a tight hold around the base of your leaking cock. A desperate moan escaping your lips as your eyes widen, the building of pressure feeling like too much. Your hands pushing you off the table as you push yourself against Shanks even further in a desperate attempt to get his hold on your cock to loosen, to let you feel the sweet release you’ve been craving.

         “Now, now.” His laughing tone hits your frustrated ears, “That’s for later. Can’t have you becoming spent too early.” You feel the pressure slowly ebb away, the tight grip around your cock loosening as you slam your head against the table in disbelief.

[pileofmush]

the sun still rises ☼

pairing ➸ monkey d. luffy x fem!reader

synopsis ➸ luffy catches something in the water. it's a girl, to his dismay. not a fish.

details ➸ tags: pt. i, angst, introspection // cw: very much a vent fic, near-death experience, struggles with mental health, i gave reader a name bc i can, an attempt at prose // wc: 1.4k // series m.list

Water crashes against a rocky shore. It whispers; it sings. Rising and rolling, the water recedes; it warns. 

A thud. Feeble knees collapse into wet sand. Salt lingers on your tongue, though you’ve scrubbed your mouth three times now. You choke on the grains still lodged in your throat. Blink the sand out of your eyes.

Alive. You’re alive, you think to yourself. Your cruddy boat is gone, washed away somewhere. But you remain—alive. And the sun still rises and the world still spins.

Not that the world would have stopped spinning had you died. Not when death makes the world go round. Still, the sun rises. Still, the ocean’s tide sings. The tide drapes over you, blocking out the sky. Perhaps you should have fled, when you had the chance. But you didn’t-- you don't, and the wave crashes over you as consequence. You are moved. Moved by the wave; moved by the weight of your circumstances. No one prepared you for this. Your mother didn’t dole out this particular lesson in her long spiels about the meaning of life. And now, she will never speak again.

Mother leapt. 

Mother crashed. 

Like waves against a rocky shore. 

If only you could take on the attributes of the sea. The sea knows no god. She does what she wishes. But you? You bend. Bend to the will of those who want harder than you. Bend to the magnificent wave’s power as it drags you back, back into the godless sea. You are nothing, in comparison. Flotsam.

You don’t want. But there are things that you don’t want.

For instance: you don’t want to return to your mother. 

Oh, you thought that you did. You thought a lot of things. You once thought your mother believed in the hollow words she said. She didn’t. You once thought dying would be easy. 

It isn’t.

Dying burns. Like the burning in your lungs. It takes, and it consumes, until there is nothing left of you but a mound of ash. 

And, dying squeezes. Squeezes you out like a dirty dish rag, until out spills every morsel of fear, frustration, desire and hope that once existed inside your fleshy body. And, there you are. Your essence, pooled into the ocean for all to see. And in your last few moments, you are left to wonder, perhaps I did exist; perhaps I should have lived. 

You inhale. You don’t want to die. There has to be more to life than drowning in the waters of a strange island, strange ocean, stranger world. Saltwater fills your lungs as you begin to mourn the life you never lived. 

Dying, you find, is a color. A deep, solemn purple. The color of a fresh bruise; the color of your mother’s wine; the color of regret.

Cupped hands cut through water, frantic, as you try to rise; as your head spins. Above the waterline, above your flailing body, the wind howls. It warned you, you know. The ocean warned you. And now the wind howls, though the wail doesn’t quite reach your ears. Not over the deep blue croon of the ocean, and your own pained gurgles. 

You can’t think, any longer. Only feel. 

Feel your fingertips just barely breach the surface. Feel your legs kick with a renewed sense of urgency. Feel the sudden intake of air—sweet, glorious air rushing through your body—almost too much, but not even close to being enough. Feel the hands that wrap around your torso like a lasso, firm and sort of rubbery. Feel your body fling through the air, and your stomach lurch, before you collide into a person. 

It knocks the breath out your lungs, and you choke, for a second time.

The same hand that deftly plucked you out the ocean whacks your back, while the other keeps you upright. You would wave your savior off if you had the energy. You possess no devil powers—you dare not make a foe of nature itself—yet the ocean saps your strength, anyway. Takes what little you have left to claim, like she took away your mother. 

You’ve yet to open your eyes, but you can reason you’re on a ship. You can hear the calls of a woman over the song of the wailing sea, preparing the ship for docking in the middle of a thrashing storm. You hear the grunts of men, and the flapping of wind-beaten sails, and the stamping of several feet, scurrying across a wooden deck. 

When you’re finally done hacking your lungs, the savior makes to set you down. Your knees buckle.

 “Woah there,” you hear them exclaim, then let out a boyish laugh. The stranger hoists you up by your arm pits, like you’re a drenched cat. “You’re not a fish!” 

This is true.

You blink the water out of your eyes. In front of you: a boy. Just a boy with a wide, proud grin, and a curved scar underneath his eye. A yellow straw hat hangs from his neck. 

You cough up water as a greeting.  

You know of this strange, savior boy. He belongs on fading, brown parchment above big, bold letters—Wanted; Dead or Alive—his toothy grin immortalized on the bulletin board outside the pub back home. But he isn’t just any old criminal. No, this boy is far worse. For he looks at the expansive blue sea—godless, boundless—and has the gumption to declare it his playing field. 

He looks at what the world has to offer him with wide, peering eyes, and yet, he is still not satisfied. Surely, the world has more to give. Surely, it has more to take. That’s what he does, and it’s what he will continue to do: take and take until he’s had his fill. 

He’s a pirate, after all.

The boy sets you down on the deck and you are finally centered—reunited, at last, with the ground. He’s kind of awkward looking: gangly and disheveled and bright, but his carefree countenance wraps it altogether and ties it in a messy red bow. He tilts his head at a 90 degree angle and stares at you point-blank, thin black brows furrowed in confusion. 

“If you’re not a fish, what’re ya doing in the middle of the ocean?” he asks bluntly. Like you could help getting swept up in the current of Mother Nature. Like his crew mates aren’t currently scrambling to safely dock this ship. 

Your voice sounds strangled when you speak, words getting caught in your throat and roughly tumbling out of your mouth. “Drowning. I was drowning,” you manage to say. 

The rocking of the ship you’re on is not kind to you. Hunched over, your hands brace against your knees as you huff. Your fingers are pruned grapes, wrinkled and trembling.  

“That’s dumb,” the boy tells you. “Just swim next time.”

Maybe he has a point.

You look to the sky. It’s a deep, foreboding gray, pregnant dark clouds looming above and promising rain. Somewhere, you register, behind the clouds… is the sun. It’ll set, yes, and plunge the realm into night, but by dawn it will rise again. And the world will spin. 

“Who’re you then, if you’re not a fish?” The boy draws you back to him, demanding your attention. His eyes are dark as coal, round with open curiosity. You burn under his gaze; greedy and intense. 

Your back straightens. “I’m Yuna.” 

“Like Tuna?” he questions.

“Just Yuna.”

He accepts your answer with a swift jerk of his head and a slight pout. In the distance, you can hear the woman from before calling the the ship to anchor. One of the men—this one has a slender frame and long, long legs—leaves the helm and drops an anchor to the ocean floor. 

Your gaze flickers back to the boy who saved your life. “I’m Luffy! Monkey D. Luffy,” he introduces himself, then reaches for his straw hat to place atop his head. A red ribbon wraps around the base. 

Things make sense when the hat is on, you think to yourself. He makes sense. 

“Remember that,” he demands and jabs a thumb towards his chest, something like passion lighting his coal eyes aflame. “You’re talkin’ to the future king of the pirates.” 

As if the heavens already bow to him, this future king, it begins to rain. He pulls off his hat and looks up. Water droplets kiss tawny skin. They roll from his cheeks, to his chin, down the curve of his neck. 

Rain, your mother liked to say, is good luck. Fathers renewal. Change.

You hope she’s right.

[fishenjoyer1]

Fish of the Day

Today's fish of the day is the reef triggerfish!

The Reef Triggerfish, also known by Hawiian name humuhumunukunukuāpuaʻa, and scientific name Rhinecanthus rectangulus, is known for its prevalence across the indo-pacific, and for being Hawaii's state fish! Their range stretches from the Hawiian islands to the Eastern Philippines,Northern Australia, Indian ocean, small sections of the red sea, and the mediterranean. This fish lives its life out along reefs and other sea shelves, as their hunting style consists mostly of digging in the sand and rocks for prey, similar to pigs digging for truffles. Their diet consists of reef invertebrates, algae, small crabs, sea urchins, and other benthic animals. This diet can support them to sizes of 10-12 inches, which is the smaller range for triggerfishes.

These fish, like many other triggerfish, gain their name from their ability to fire and aim jets of water, which it will also use to hunt and find prey beneath the surface. They also will use this against other fish and larger beings in their territory, as reef triggerfishes are intensely territorial, and solitary other than in breeding season. This can manifest in cases where reef triggerfish chase and bite humans viewing reefs. When met with predators, the reef triggerfish, similar to other triggerfish, finds small holes within rocks or corals that it will lodge itself within. The first dorsal spine will act as a physical barrier that can lock in an upright position, making it harder for predators to pry it out of their safe havens. Due to the shape of their spines and fins, these fish can swim forward, backward, and hover in the water.

Like most fishes, reef triggerfish have a breeding season from April-August, and classically have females lay eggs and males fertilize in groups. This being the one of the only times they interact with other of their species intentionally. Then after this, a female will build a nest, and wait with eggs until a few weeks after they hatch, at which point the fish will set out independently. Reef triggerfish can also change coloration, turning a more vibrant shade for breeding seasons. They will also present vibrantly when healthy, sexually mature, and unthreatened. They can also change colors to better match an environment around them, and do so nightly when they settle into holes to rest.

Have a wonderful day, everyone!

[trickphotography2]

D-Day by TrickPhotography | Chapter 15

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader

Word count: 5.4k

Synopsis: After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child.

18+, minors DNI

Chapter 14 | Series Master List | Ao3

---------------------------------------

Chapter 15

“Beau.”

“Absolutely not.” The soothing sound of waves crashing onto the shore, coupled with the steady rise and fall of your husband’s breath, was lulling you into a doze. With his hands planted firmly in the sand, Jake supported your weight as you sat between his legs, back pressed to his chest. 

Given that he was about to be surrounded by the ocean in just a few days, you’d been surprised when he planned to spend Sunday at the beach. Rather than stay at the beach at the Navy Lodge, where you were staying on North Island, you drove about an hour away. Under an umbrella borrowed from Penny, he passed a few hours with his head in your lap, turning to brush his lips to your stomach while you alternated between dozing and reading a romance book you’d grabbed from the airport. At his request, you read some of it aloud, trailing off when it got to a steamy scene. One green eye opened when you shifted, a sly smirk spreading across his mouth before he took the book from you and started to read you the somewhat graphic sex scene. When you tried to snatch it back, he leapt to his feet and continued. Once you’d gotten to your feet, he dodged your attempts to snatch it back, finally tossing the book onto the towels before swinging you into his arms and charging into the water. He gave a three-second warning before dunking you both under the waves.

With your legs wrapped around his waist, he walked out far enough to conceal the fact that his hand was between your thighs, rubbing your clit through your bathing suit. With nails digging into his shoulders, you kissed him hard, forcing him to swallow your gasps as you clenched around nothing.

“I love that name,” you grumbled, toying with the high hem of his wet swim trunks. 

“Do you know what Admiral Simpson’s name is?” Huffing, you let your head fall back onto his shoulder, the corners of your mouth twitching when he chuckled and kissed your temple.

“If we can’t name our kid after someone you work with - you realize that narrows down our options. A lot.”

“I’m not naming my kid after my boss. Besides, we don’t need a boy's name.” His sandy hand covered your stomach, cool against your sun-warmed skin. “Kiwi is a girl.”

“Nectarine is a boy. When you call him ‘Kiwi,’ it sounds like I have a New Zealander in my uterus.” You couldn’t help but smile as Jake laughed, bouncing you lightly. 

“Nope,” he finally managed. “Just the combination of a Texas boy and a Florida girl in there.” 

“Sounds like a dangerous combination.” 

“Parker.”

“Hmmm,” you said, wringing the water from your hair. Jake pulled back the shower curtain and grabbed a towel. “Parker Seresin. That’s cute. And it would work for a boy or a girl.” Pressing himself to your back, Jake leaned down to kiss your neck. 

“What do you think about giving her your middle name?”

“It’s a weird middle name for a boy. What do you think… would you want him to be a junior?” He froze, breath stuttering against your skin. “Jacob Michael Seresin, Junior. JJ for short.” After a moment, he gathered himself and shook his head. 

“No. I don’t want any of our kids to be a junior.” Something was guarded in his eyes when they met yours in the mirror. Seeing your worried look, he forced a smile. “Besides, Jacob’s a weird name for a girl.” With a sigh, you shook your head and pulled the towel from his hand, dropping it onto the floor and tugging him from the bathroom. Chuckling, he pressed against your back, fingers slipping between the gap in the towel wrapped around you. Tutting, you pointed to the edge of the bed, and he obliging sat, legs spread wide enough for you to stand between. 

“Jake,” you said softly, shaking your head when his hands curled around your thighs and started to move higher. With one hand braced on his shoulders, you ran your fingers through his wet hair and sighed. His smile dropped at your serious expression.

“Darlin’?” 

“I… I know you’re sure we’re having a girl and that you said you don’t have a preference, but…” Blowing out a breath, you tried to force away the inconvenient prick of tears in your eyes. He said your name softly, concern etched on his face. “Sorry,” you said thickly, shaking your head. “Fucking hormones. Sorry. I just - will you be okay if we have a boy?” 

“Of course,” Jake said quickly, lifting his hands to frame your stomach while drawing you closer. “I thought we were having fun - I didn’t realize that saying the baby’s a girl upset you.”

“It’s not,” you sniffled, trailing your nails down his neck. “It’s just… you’re so adamant, and by the time we find out what they are, you’ll be so far away. And just now, y-you looked so… so… I don’t know when I asked about naming them after you.” 

Slowly, Jake’s gaze dropped from yours, first down to your nose, then chin, before his head lowered. His forehead rested between your breasts, shoulders slowly rising and falling with each deliberate breath. You watched as his jaw ticked when he clenched his teeth. After a moment, he said, in a steady but strained voice, “If we have a boy, we can call him JJ.” Your heart broke a little at that moment, and you wrapped your arms around your husband, holding him tightly.

“I don’t care about calling him JJ. I want to know why you’re upset.” Gently, Jake pushed you away and stood, walking to his duffle and grabbing a pair of boxers. “Honey?” He dragged a hand through his hair, shoulders hunched, and shook his head. 

“I don’t… I never want our kids to think that they have to live up to their name.” 

“What do you - ”

“My dad used to tell me that he was glad they didn’t name me after him - that not making me a junior was one of the best decisions he made.” 

He made sure I knew how much of a disappointment I was.

That admission, shared after you first met his mother and sister, was unspoken but seemed to resonate in the silence. You bit your lip hard, taking a shaky breath and forcing away your tears. Never in your entire life had you felt such hatred for another person. 

Silently, you walked towards him and lightly stroked his back, feeling him tense under your touch. His eyes stayed glued on his duffle as you stood beside him, his expression purposefully blank. “Love?” you said softly, brushing your lips to his bicep. His eyes closed, brows furrowing as you trailed your free hand down his arm to tangle your fingers together. Jake’s grip was limp as your thumb stroked his empty ring finger. Sighing, you quickly brushed away a few escaped tears before pulling away and retreating to the bathroom. 

Hurt shone in your husband’s eyes as he watched you reappear a moment later, wearing your sleep shorts and t-shirt. Returning to his side, you took his left hand and slid his wedding ring back on, pressing your lips to the white gold band. “I want you to listen to me, Jake,” you said, voice rough with emotion. “You are a good man. You are an amazing husband. And our baby has no idea how lucky they are to have you as a father.” 

“A father who won’t even be there when they’re born,” he replied gruffly. 

“Not through any choice of your own,” you countered. Turning his hand, you placed your wedding rings in his palm. He quickly returned them to their rightful place on your finger. Catching his hand, you slid it under your shirt and pressed it against your stomach. “If we have a boy, will you love him any less than if we had a girl?”

“No.” His answer was quick and emphatic. 

“Would you favor his sister over him?” Jake shook his head. “Would you ever tell our son that he was a disappointment?” His throat bobbed, green eyes glistening. 

“N-never.” Ignoring the tears slipping down your face, you reached up to cup his cheek.

“You are nothing like your dad. You would never intentionally hurt your family.” 

“Dar - ”

“Nothing. Like. Him,” you reiterated. “And if it takes me saying it every day to get it through your thick skull, I’ll do it.” Jake let out a sad chuckle, his hand sliding from your stomach to your lower back as he leaned down to kiss you. 

“I love you,” he mumbled against your lips. 

“I love you too.” Dragging your hand down his chest, you entwined your fingers and took a step back, gently guiding him toward the bed. After you’d settled back on the pillows, he joined you, tugging your shirt up to kiss your baby bump. He rolled onto his side, propping his head up on a fist while his left hand stroked your stomach. 

“What…what about Oliver?” Jake asked hesitantly, focusing on the rise and fall of your breath. 

Your hand covered his, feeling the ridge of his wedding ring pressing lightly into your skin. “Oliver Seresin. Sounds perfect.” 

Jake tiptoed around the hotel room on Monday morning as he prepared for work. Woken by the sound of the shower, you’d reached for him only to find his side of the bed empty.

After the conversation the night before, you were even more worried about him being gone now. Not because of his physical safety - that was always a concern, and you spent too much time around pilots not to know how dangerous Jake’s job was - but because he was apparently keeping his worries hidden from you. The idea that he would compare himself to his piece of shit father angered you so much. 

With reruns of Friends playing low in the background, Jake told you that he was worried about having a boy because he didn’t know how to be a good dad to a son. If the baby was a girl, he would have some idea of what to do - Lina got away with murder but was clearly loved, and he saw how much your dad loved you. There was a blueprint he could follow with a daughter. When you’d tried to assure him that having a boy would only mean you learned how to parent together, he’d agreed with a skeptical look, and you knew he was just trying to appease you.

If you ever had the misfortune of meeting your father-in-law, he would walk away with a piece of your mind. You also felt a new level of anger with Sarah for allowing her husband to abuse her son like that. The fact that Jake grew up in that household to be a man you both loved and respected was astonishing. Sure, he was cocky at times, but it was an attempt to mask some pretty big insecurities. 

The water cut off, replaced by the buzz of an electric razor. A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened. “Morning,” you mumbled, opening one eye to see him rubbing a towel through his hair. He smiled tiredly and tossed the towel back into the bathroom before walking toward the bed.

“Morning, darlin’. Didn’t mean to wake you.” Shaking your head, you stretched out a hand and smiled when he took it, sitting on the edge of the bed. When you tugged, he sighed and briefly let go of your hand to pull back the blankets. He wrapped his arms around you, guiding your head onto his shoulder. Light fingers drifted along your forearm, nudging you back to sleep. 

“Flying today?” you asked, twirling your finger in the chain of his dog tags.

“No, just briefing and last-minute stuff. I should be off tomorrow or only need to go in for a few hours.” He pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head. “What are you going to do?” At your shrug, he chuckled. “You’ll have the car, so you should go out and explore. But don’t forget that we have dinner plans tonight.” Nodding, you tilted your head back to kiss the hinge of Jake’s jaw before forcing your eyes open. His green eyes crinkled when they met yours. “There’s my sleepy girl.” 

Humming, you slid your hand down his chest, slipping under the blanket to play with the waistband of his boxer briefs. “Need me to do anything this morning?” you asked. 

“As much as I really wish we could,” he huffed, flattening your hand over the blanket, “I don’t have time.” 

“We can be quick.” Chuckling, Jake shifted to hover over you, his hips pressing yours into the mattress.

“Not that quick,” he huffed, kissing your neck. 

“It’s not fair,” you whined, wrapping your arms and legs around him. “The Navy gets you for the next six months. All I want is a couple of minutes this morning.” When he lifted his head to see your pouting lip, your husband couldn’t help but grin. He tasted like spearmint when he kissed you.

“The Navy only has me for a couple of years. You get me forever,” he murmured.

“Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

“Nope.” 

“No.” Jake’s voice was firmer than yours. His arm, which was draped across the back of your chair, tensed as he took a pull from his beer bottle. 

“Definitely not,” Rooster added, glancing between you. Your eyes met his, and he gave a strained smile.

“Why?” Amelia asked.

“Uh,” Jake said, lightly stroking your shoulder.

“That’s his ex-wife’s name,” you supplied, squeezing his knee under the table. At the girl’s embarrassed look, you shrugged, sending him a teasing glance. “He’s got a long list of exes, so there’s quite a few names that are crossed off.” Amelia smirked as Jake tugged a strand of your hair.

“I’m surprised he can remember them all,” Rooster muttered, then grimaced when Mav kicked him under the table. “Ow.”

“Dessert?” Penny asked, quickly pushing to her feet and grabbing her empty plate. With the pilots leaving on Wednesday, she had invited everyone to her house for dinner on Monday evening. 

“Rooster will help,” Mav said, giving the younger man a stern look. Groaning, the pilot quickly helped collect the empty dishes with Amelia, following the two women into the kitchen. 

“So, how are your parents?” Mav asked, rolling his water glass between his hands. Jake shrugged, and you squeezed his knee again. 

“Mine are good. They’re down in the Keys with their best friends right now and living their best lives. Got some pictures of them at a drag show earlier,” you chuckled. 

“They seem like nice people,” the older man grinned, eyes shooting to your silent husband. 

“They’re the best,” Jake nodded. “Couldn’t ask for better in-laws.” It was on the tip of your tongue to say that you could, with regard to his family. 

“Are they planning on coming out when you, uh…” He gestured towards your stomach, and you smiled, placing a hand on your bump.

“Yeah, they’re both going to fly out when this one makes their appearance in February. Mom’s already scoping out the fastest route in case I go into labor early.” Jake’s hand flexed, and you glanced at him. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his sad eyes. “You and Rooster will have to take care of this one for me when the time comes,” you said, leaning into your husband. 

“Of course,” Mav agreed, with the solemnity of a vow. 

“Admiral Tritz said the first one is usually late,” Jake said softly, turning his beer bottle around on the table. 

“He’s not wrong,” Penny said, sailing back into the dining room with her helpers in tow. She set a piece of cherry pie before Mav and kissed his cheek. “Amelia was a few days late.” 

“Bradley, too.” The man in question set the pie before you and collapsed back into his chair, and Jake smiled at Amelia and accepted the offered plate. “Carole was miserable, and Goose was asking everyone who had kids what they did to kick off labor.” 

“Well, there’s one surefire way of doing that,” Penny laughed, winking at you. You forced a smile, trying not to dwell on the fact that your husband wouldn’t be with you to help induce labor. 

“Yeah, don’t want to hear about that,” Rooster grumbled. 

“Gross,” Amelia agreed. You chuckled.

“After 38 weeks, just prepare to be uncomfortable,” Penny cautioned. “But at least you’re not heavily pregnant during the summer. That was miserable.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Completely worth it in the long run,” the older woman smiled, smoothing a hand over her daughter’s hair. 

A whirring sound woke you, and you opened an eye to see Jake walking into the hotel room, juggling two coffee cups. When he glanced at the bed, you quickly closed your eyes and feigned sleep. Depositing the cups and keys on the dresser, he toed off his shoes and quickly undid the buttons on his khaki shirt, draping it over the desk chair. You heard the jingle of his belt as he coiled it, and moments later, the bed dipped. The movement jostled you, and you tilted further onto your side.

But your husband didn’t pull you into his chest like you expected. Instead, the mattress shifted, and you felt a gentle pressure on your stomach and his arm on your hips, accompanied by a heavy sigh. It was silent for a long time, and you snuck a glance to see that his forehead was pressed against your stomach, feet dangling off the end of the bed. Your fingers twitched on the pillow, and you almost lifted your hand to thread through his hair when he spoke. “Mama may hate me for this, but please don’t come early,” Jake whispered. “Stay in there as long as possible. I’m…I’m not gonna be there when you’re born. I’m leaving you both tomorrow, and I hate it. I, uh…your daddy’s in the Navy, which means sometimes I’m gonna have to be away from you when I don’t want to, like now. I’m not gonna get to see you getting bigger in Mama’s belly or feel you move or get to talk to you. So just gimme as much time to get home as you can so I don’t miss more, okay?” 

It took all of your strength to lie there, forcing your breath to be steady as your heart broke. Jake had done so much to be strong for you through all the preparation for his deployment - giving him as much privacy as possible for his conversation with the baby was the least you could do. He was silent for a long time, and you were starting to feel the uncomfortable duel sensation of nausea and needing to pee. One of those would be easily remedied by taking the medication Jake always set out for you on the nightstand before going to bed. Still, you were reluctant to end the moment he so clearly needed. 

“I’m gonna screw up a lot.” His voice was muffled as he spoke into the blanket. “But I’m gonna do my best. You’ll never have to doubt that I love you and your mama. I promise.” Tears pricked your eyes, and you swallowed hard. When he pressed harder into your stomach, you squirmed - he and the baby were pressing on your bladder. The pressure lessened, and you could feel Jake looking at you. 

And then a gentle chiming started. 

Taking a deep breath, you blindly reached for your phone. Fingers brushed yours, gently taking it from your loose grip and turning off the alarm. “Morning, sleepy girl. Gonna stop pretending to be asleep now?” Without opening your eyes, you threaded your fingers through your husband’s hair. His lips brushed your inner wrist when you overshot, resting your hand on his cheek instead. 

“Love you,” you murmured. “Both of us.” 

After a long shower, you both dressed for the day. Jake had a few last-minute errands he needed to run, including getting a haircut, so you walked around the Navy Exchange before nipping into the Commissary to grab a few snacks. He’d assured you that he could pick things up at the mini-mart on the carrier, but you wanted to make sure he had some of the canned almonds and beef jerky he liked. And you wanted to sneak another small package of toothpicks into his duffle. Plus, yogurt-covered pretzels sounded good. 

The dock was the next stop. Besides visiting the Midway Museum, you hadn’t had much exposure to Navy ships, and you wanted to get an idea of what his life would be like for the next half a year. You weren’t able to get too close but could see them preparing to depart. Jake pointed out the ones going out with the strike group. In addition to the carrier, they would be joined by a cruiser, two destroyers, and a supply ship. Tomorrow, the dock would be full of families saying goodbye to their loved ones before the ships pushed away. The support and maintenance crews from Lemoore would already be on the bus down to San Diego. 

Once the carrier was underway and about a hundred miles away from shore, he explained, the fixed-wing aircraft would start to arrive. Aviators didn’t have the dockside departure that the rest of the sailors did because the jets couldn’t land on the carrier while in port. Jake pulled up an aerial picture of the USS Carl Vinson and described how the jets would land and be moved on the elevator to the lower decks or arranged along the edges. He, Rooster, and Mav would be the first to arrive, given how close they would be compared to the pilots coming in from Lemoore. The same system would happen when they returned - he would launch from the carrier and fly back to the base, where he’d meet you on the flight line. 

As much as you didn’t want to think about it, the whole process seemed fascinating. Over lunch, he pulled up videos to show a launch and landing, pointing out the crew in different colored vests and jobs in getting the pilots onto the steam-powered catapult. Jake had told you before how much of a rush it was to go from zero to 160 in under two seconds and come to a complete halt in the same amount of time, and an excited gleam entered his eyes. Taking off from the flight line with the meatball as a guide wasn’t as much fun. 

Jake held your hand as he drove back to the Navy Lodge, and you tugged him into the room, dropping your shopping bags as soon as the door shut. His hands closed on your hips as you guided him toward the bed, tugging at the button on his jeans. After shoving his jeans and boxers down to his thighs, he perched on the edge of the mattress as you sank to your knees. “Gonna miss you, darlin’,” he breathed as you kissed the head of his cock. Jake nudged the back of your throat, and you swallowed hard, blinking back tears in your eyes. His thumb lightly stroked your cheek before tracing your stretched lips. 

Waves crashed and washed over your feet, sand shifting underfoot as the water receded. Behind you, you could hear the screams of children playing in the surf, mingling with the cry of gulls. The sun was setting over San Diego as you walked further from the hotel. 

“Guy.” 

“Felix.”

“Felix? No,” you laughed. “Alexander.”

“Joseph.”

“James.” Jake cocked his head. 

“Oliver James Seresin. I like it.” 

“Enough not to get sick of yelling at him when he’s in trouble?” 

“Our kid will be an angel if they’re anything like their mother.”

“Okay. I’ll let you think that.” Raising an eyebrow, he pulled you to a stop. 

“You sayin’ you weren’t an angel growing up? Your mom told me you were a good kid.”

“Of course, my mom told you that - I was very good at hiding stuff.” Your family had struck a delicate balance many military families had - military brats grew up fast and independent, shouldering additional responsibilities when their parent deployed. You were also close with your parents, given that every few years, you would move away from your support system, and relationships with extended family were often impacted by moving far away from them. But with that closeness came additional freedom, which you had taken advantage of a few times. A few of those sleepovers in high school had definitely been a cover to sneak out and go underage drinking with friends.

Jake’s head fell back, and he let out a put-upon sigh, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Mama, if you weren’t the good kid, we’re in trouble.” 

“I think we can handle it, Tex,” you laughed, stepping in front of him and placing a hand on his chest. He smiled down at you, gently shaking his hand free and sliding it around your waist to bring you closer. The gentle swell of your stomach pressed against him, and you tilted your head expectantly. Jake’s lips brushed against yours in a teasing kiss. “Love you,” you murmured.

“Love you too.” He held you tightly, cheek pressed to the top of your head as you watched the sun sink below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange, pink, and purple. 

“Sloane Elizabeth Seresin.” 

“Sloane Elizabeth Seresin.” Jake tested the name, brows furrowed as he navigated the traffic of the San Diego airport. “Sloane Elizabeth…” He said nothing else as he pulled into the rental car return lot. 

You stifled a yawn, blinking away your exhaustion. Try as he might, your husband hadn’t been able to get you to sleep the night before, wanting to take advantage of every last moment with him. To feel his weight pressing you into the bed. To savor the slide of his sweat-slicked skin against yours. The drag of his calloused fingers. To swallow every muffled grunt and moan as he worshipped you. 

He’d dozed as you ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the steadiness of his breathing and heartbeat. You took the time to study the slope of his nose, how his lips twitched as he slept, and the laugh lines etched into his cheeks. Tried to imagine what features the baby would inherit.

Silently, you talked to them, telling them how much you loved their daddy. That he made you laugh every day. How he would serenade you in the shower, using the body wash as a microphone. How caring he was, from making sure you had medication to taking your car on Sunday to ensure the gas tank was full. And how excited he was to meet them. 

Jake turned off the ignition, fingers curling around the steering wheel. “Sloane,” he said again softly before turning to look at you. “Perfect.”

Dread pooled in your stomach as you walked towards TSA. When Jake had asked you to book your flight so you would leave before him, you hadn’t realized how hard it would be to give up those last few hours he would be stateside. 

“Please, darlin’,” he’d begged. “I can’t be the one to fly away from you both twice.” 

So you’d agreed. And now… now you wanted to skip the flight and stand on the North Island flight line for those last few painful moments. To see the afterburn of his jet rising into the air. But he’d been so strong, and now it was your turn. If this is what he needed, you would do it. Because you loved him. 

Your footsteps slowed as you neared the line until the clacking of both of your suitcase wheels stopped. Gently, he tugged you out of the way of other passengers and closer to the wall. Tears blurred your vision as you turned to bury your face in his chest, clinging to his flight suit. Jake held you tightly, hands sweeping your back as he pressed kisses into your hair. “It’s gonna be okay, darlin’,” he rasped. “It’s okay.” 

The first one is the hardest, your mother told you.

Remember that you’re a team, your father advised. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” you echoed, trying to make yourself believe it. “We can do this.” Sniffling, you pulled away just far enough to meet his eyes. You forced a smile when he gently thumbed away your tears, “I’m blaming the hormones for the waterworks.” 

“Definitely the hormones,” he agreed, tears glistening in his green eyes. His gaze drifted across your face as though trying to memorize it. Yours narrowed to a small patch of stubble on his chin that you’d missed when he’d lifted you onto the sink and handed you his razor that morning. Gently, you ran your finger over it and took a deep breath. 

“Be careful, okay?” you said, unable to look at him. 

“I will. You too.” You nodded, swallowing hard. “Call Javy or Nat or the guys if you need anything. Promise?”

“Promise. Call me whenever you get a chance?”

“Of course. The carrier has wifi, so I’ll be able to call you at least once a week. Can probably text you, too. And I’ll email.” Mav had passed along that piece of information the day before after he’d met with another captain assigned to the Carl Vinson to discuss the mission. “I want you to send me pictures, okay? Wanna see this one getting bigger.” He gently pressed against your stomach. 

“Oliver or Sloane?”

“Oliver or Sloane,” he agreed. “But probably Sloane. Can you send me a video of that appointment? When you find out what we’re having?”

“Absolutely.” You choked on the word and inhaled sharply. His lips brushed your forehead before Jake dropped to one knee and kissed your stomach.

“Be good for Mama, alright?” he said softly. “I love you so much.” You brushed away your tears, one hand resting on his shoulder. With another kiss to your bump, he stood up and quickly wiped his face. “I think it’s time to go, darlin’.” Rolling your lips together, you nodded. Your husband pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly as he kissed the side of your head. “I love you.”

“Love you too. Be safe, and we’ll be waiting for you when you come home.” Jake swallowed hard. 

Together, you walked to the line and kissed one last time before you joined the queue. He retreated to the upper walkway, keeping pace as the line moved closer and closer to the TSA agents. 

You look ridiculous, you texted him.

Not leaving until you’re out of sight, he replied.

Rooster’s probably waiting outside for you. 

He is. He can wait.

You’re going to owe him.

He’s already told me I do. Worth it.

Too soon, you came to the front of the line. Quickly, you turned and met Jake’s eyes. ‘I love you,’ you mouthed before blowing him a kiss. 

And then, with one last glance at your husband, you handed over your license. The line for the scanners curled behind a wall. By the time you got past security, he had disappeared into the crowd. 

Fly safe, Hangman, you texted him. 

You too, Mama. Love you.

Your phone pinged with texts from friends and family checking in as the plane landed in Lemoore. But there was only one that you opened. 

Jake had sent a picture of himself in the cockpit, eyes narrowed as he smiled behind his oxygen mask. 

I love you, darling. I’ll be home soon.

Javy waited by baggage claim, and he quickly pulled you into a hug at the sight of your red-rimmed eyes. Though he offered to stay the night, you quickly sent him away once you were home.

Alone, you tugged on one of Jake’s Academy shirts and crawled into his side of the bed. Burying your face in his pillow, you sobbed.

Six months. 

Twenty-four weeks. 

One hundred and seventy days until Jake was home. 

----------------------------------------------

Author's Note: We knew it was coming, but this still hurt. Had to address some insecurities Jake has before he was too far away to discuss them, like the worry he has about having a son.

The USS Carl Vinson is a carrier that does have wifi that the sailors can access; I found a few articles about how it boosted morale to have internet access. So if Jake had to deploy during Darlin's pregnancy, at least it was on a ship that he could have better contact with. However, the wifi is a double edged sword as there were issues when an F-35 crashed and video leaked out before the official investigation. I surfed a couple military chat boards to find out about the CVW joining the carrier at sea, and watched a few homecoming videos NAS Oceana about the fighter pilots coming home.

Thank you for your patience with getting this chapter out, I really appreciate it ❤️ I'm also curious if you think that they are having a boy or a girl.

Read Chapter 16

Tag list: @mamachasesmayhem; @memeorydotcom; @alldaysdreamers; @kmc1989; @djs8891; @caitsymichelle13; @dempy; @midnightmagpiemama; @lovelyladymayyyy; @caidi-paris; @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby; @bellaireland1981; @lethargicluv; @tenderclio; @lucypaulette; @abaker74; @trhett21; @misshoneypaper; @schreksdoubledeckerhomechecker; @eternallyvenus; @mavrellover91; @chloeforde; @thatbitcily; @rest-of-brazilian-wax; @percysaidnever; @harperdoodle; @hardballoonlove; @maeleeme; @emma8895eb; @xoxabs88xox; @queenslandlover-93; @memoriesat30; @queerqueenlynn

[phoenix-downer]

Always With You

And in a world without you, I'll dream of you.

Kairi's eyes fluttered open, and the world of sky and sea greeted her. The gentle swell of the ocean reflected the vast blue, purple, and pink stretches of the heavens above punctuated by an endless array of puffy clouds.

She always walked on the surface of the water here, like the regular rules of physics didn't apply. Or maybe the water was so shallow, merely a thin film coating the ground, that it didn't matter. Either way, it stretched out forever in every direction, as far as the eye could see.

And yet somehow, he always found her. That was the story of their bond, one of separations and reunions. If his journey began the day he lost her, it would end the day he found her for good.

“Sora!” she cried, happy to see him. This was the only place they could meet, in dreams, in this world on the boundary of life and death, this realm that floated between realities.

His face lit up like the sun rising over the horizon. He smiled and mouthed her name, forming her syllables and sounds like they were second nature. He wasn't fully here, so neither was his voice, but they communicated as best they could, with whispered words, tender touches, specific signs.

She reached for his hand, warmth radiating up her arm and spreading throughout her whole body. Here in this place, she nearly forgot how coldly his hand had been wrenched from hers that fateful sunset on the paopu tree.

With interlocked hands and held gazes, they smiled at each other to make up for all of the tears they'd cried. Faces close enough to kiss but neither of them closing that final bit of distance. It was the smallest distance and yet felt like the largest. Any attempts to breach it felt like stepping beyond the dream into unknown territory.

Still, at least they could dream. Dream of the day there would be no such barriers, the day they would meet again in reality or unreality.

When I come to, let us meet with our usual words on the usual street.

How nice it would be to hear his voice again saying the usual words, “I'm back,” so she could tell him, “You're home.” Because while Destiny Islands was important to them both, that fateful reunion day, they'd realized home wasn't a location so much as it was a person. When they were together, they were home.

This place was home too, in a way. A temporary lodging, a waystation, but a place of refuge where they could meet again nonetheless. She and the others endlessly searched for clues as to his real whereabouts, and yet his heart always knew to come here.

It seemed like an eternity ago that her heart had sheltered in his. So much had happened since then. Maybe his heart, or a part of it anyway, was hidden inside hers now. Taking refuge there, binding him to her, keeping him tied to the Realm of Light. Ever since sharing the paopu fruit with him, she'd known deep in her bones that the effects of it weren't just a legend, they were real, connecting hearts, binding fates together for all eternity.

Maybe the key to finding him wasn't somewhere out there. Maybe it was to be found inside herself.

She told him her suppositions. His smile got bigger and bigger, and he nodded enthusiastically. He made the motion of sharing the paopu fruit, pointed at her heart, and then mouthed, “I’m always with you.”

She grinned excitedly and cupped his face. “I'm always with you, too.”

A change came over his expression. His gaze flickered from her lips to her eyes and back again. She swallowed, her heart thundering in her chest in spite of the calm, serene scenery surrounding them. He wrapped his arms around her and tilted his head, and she let her eyes flicker shut, imagining how it would feel to kiss him at long last. There hadn't been time for that before he slipped through her fingers, but in this place there was world enough and time.

Right as their lips met, she jolted awake. The disappointment that flooded her whole being was powerful enough to make her cry, her chest tightening, her stomach throbbing and head aching and nose running. Tears trailed down her face as she made the unhappy adjustment to reality, to waking life. He was gone. She was alone in her room at the Land of Departure, a pupil of Master Aqua’s trying to get a good night’s sleep before another day of training. Her soft sobs echoed throughout the ancient room, stone nearly as old as the World’s rending her quiet companion.

But it wasn't an unfriendly place. The last embers of the fire in the fireplace glowed warmly, and the stars twinkled in the sky.

Stumbling out of bed, she padded over to the window and gazed outside. Her room in the castle was pretty high up, so she could see a great deal of the scenery below, even at night. The vibrant green hills and deep blue ponds and lakes, the training grounds and hidden caves full of secrets.

When she glanced into the heavens, she couldn't help but think of Sora and rested a hand on her chest. Was he thinking of her like she was thinking of him?

Wait a second. Her heart. Her heart was connected to his. A part of his heart was sheltering in hers. That was the key to everything, she knew it had to be.

Sora was with her. He had been all along, just like he'd promised.

“Aqua!” she excitedly called, not caring that it was the middle of the night. She knew her mentor would want to know what she'd discovered. It couldn't wait for one more second.

If she was right about this, she was sure she could find Sora. Not just a path to him or a way to him, but actually find him and bring him home.

There is always sleep between part and meet with our usual words on the usual street.

So let us part as we always do…and in a world without you, I'll dream of you.

When I come to, let us meet with our usual words on the usual street.

She knew she would see him again soon.

————————————————————————

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! This is based on Tam’s beautiful art for SoKai Day this year. A big thank you to her for doing the art 🥺🙏

I really enjoyed incorporating all the different quotes and reflecting on all those wonderful moments between Sora and Kairi. Also, I just have this gut feeling that the characters will spend most of KH4 looking for Sora and realize there is something they missed all along, like the paopu fruit connecting his heart to Kairi in a way that makes it easier for them to find him or at least for Kairi to find him and guide him home, so I wanted to explore that concept a little more. Happy SoKai Day!

[tyrantisterror]

At Sea Without a Map pt. 48

"Lord Ironteeth!" you shout to the immense sea monster that could oh-so-easily kill you, and in response its blazing red eyes go from looking at your boat to looking at you, specifically. "You've got something in your eye! I can get it out for you, if you'd let me!"

The vast shark regards you for a moment, then surges forward until its enormous head is right next to your boat. For the second time in your life, you find yourself looking into an eye that's larger than your own torso - this one just happens to also look like it's made of molten lead.

With remarkable courage, you reach forward and grab the harpoon lodged in the shark's eye socket. The... flesh? slag? around the harpoon's tip wriggles from the movement, and you see the shark's eye wince from the pain as you pluck the irritant out. Then that molten metal skin seals up, leaving no sign that it had ever been stabbed. You briefly think about the person who had thrown this harpoon - what kind of maniac would look at a creature like this and think they could take it out with a pointy stick?

Lord Ironteeth continues to watch you, and you feel the literal heat of his gaze as his molten body rests close to your boat. Then, with great care, the shark pushes itself away from your boat, slowly and calmly so as not to capsize you again. As he puts distance between himself and you, the shark hacks out more globs of molten metal into the sea, vomiting a great deal of molten slag before he disappears beneath the waves. The maelstrom seems to follow him, its dark clouds rolling through the sky until you see the sun again and the waves return to a more gentle state.

You stand on your boat, breathing heavily, and realize that you looked a god in the face and lived.

Calibani and Bob approach you on the deck of your ship - you're not sure when they joined you up here, as you've been too focused on, you know, the warship-sized shark that almost killed you. As they wordlessly join your side, you watch the slag that Lord Ironteeth spewed out as it begins to congeal a hundred feet or so away from your boat. The molten metal seems almost magnetically attracted to itself, merging into one giant glob that cools quickly as its surface degrades into coarse black granules. Within minutes it turns into something familiar - an island covered in black sand.

As you take in this odd spectacle, something plummets out of the sky, and again you realize after a short moment of reflection that it's quite familiar to you.

It's that strange bird-thing you saw on the island with the tree storks. Calling it a bird is inaccurate, you suppose - its body is covered in hair, not feathers, and on close inspection it seems more like some sort of nightmarish muppet than any animal, bird or otherwise, that you'd recognize. You shake your head at the silliness of this world and prepare to leave, only to stop when the winged thing opens its trash-can lid jaws and flaps its round, sharp-toothed maw at you.

"You're near the end now, Sailor!" the furry flying beast shouts to you. Its voice is thin and willowy with an almost melodic, singsong quality to how it pronounces words. The creature shakes some glittery powder out of its wings, and when the dust touches the sand of the newly formed island you see plants begin to grow. "Just a deep plunge and a few critical choices left! Why not chat a while first and catch your breath? The big answers can wait, but if you don't get the small ones now, you never will."

You don't know what this thing is or what it truly wants, but you don't need a compass to tell you that you should talk to it. At this point, experience has taught you the value of embracing curiosity, so long as you do it with caution. You do, however, want some direction in what to discuss with the beast, and so you consult your compass.

(It's a discussion poll, so feel free to pose questions/prompts based on our four main topics listed in the poll)

(Next update will be Tuesday, 12/10/24!)

[galpalaven]

WIP Wednesday

Hythazemet Beach Episode AU

Emet-Selch, Hythlodaeus, and the 13th Shard of Azem go on a Vacation

Andromeda had always loved the sea.

Hades remembers it well. She often gravitated towards it when she traveled the star as Azem, and she’d always bring him shells. She even had a massive aquarium in her apartment, full of all kinds of fish and sea creatures that she loved to watch when she was home. By proxy, Hythlodaeus had developed a love for the sea, too — he remembers Hythlodaeus saying that the sea spray reminded him of her, when she was gone, when it was just the two of them by the bay in Amaurot.

All things considered, he supposes that it makes sense that they would choose this place for their little “vacation” idea.

Though no longer enthralled by Darkness, Zodiark now long dead, Hades still avoids standing in the hot sun when he can. They arrive in Tulliyollal late in the afternoon, when the sun still beams far too brightly, and immediately it becomes clear that the world-threatening catastrophe he had set the Warrior of Light on the trail of has already been dealt with. The docks and city seem to be in a state of reconstruction, though people are as friendly as he remembers. Almost blindingly so, if he’s honest. 

He had only been to Tural once in the wake of the establishment of Tulliyollal, but he remembers his chest squeezing at the joy that radiated from the people around him. It had been familiar, even in the hollow faces of the creatures who had inherited his world, to the point that it had made him sick at the time.

It is much the same now — friendly grins and shallow eyes — but it’s hard to feel quite as upset with both of his hands occupied, fingers tangled through the fingers of the two halves of his heart, standing happily on either side of him. Andromeda drifts close to his side, half leaning on him on his right, while Hythlodaeus on his left tugs a little, eyes bright and wide as the brilliant grin pulling at his full lips.

Hades can feel the urge to smile, already twitching at the corners of his mouth, watching Hythlodaeus experience this new world for the first time. He’d been much the same in Sharlayan as they came up from the Sea (he is still grateful, begrudgingly, to the Forum for their discretion at providing them travel documents). The entire few days they spent preparing for their journey were spent trailing after his loves from sun up to long after sun down as Hythlodaeus insisted on seeing as much of the island as he could, neither Hades nor Andromeda willing to tell him no. Andromeda may have been the traveler among them, but Hythlodaeus is the only one who has not seen this world in the slightest. Hades has walked every inch of this world — of every version of the world, in every vain reflection — and Andromeda had kept a vigil over the pieces of her soul from her place in the Sea, but Hythlodaeus?

To him, the Final Days had only just happened months ago. 

To him, this is all bright and shiny and new.

And it warms Hades’s cold, aching heart, watching the joy glitter in those pretty purple eyes of his.

Hades urges them to find their lodgings first, though the smell of street food seems to be enticing both of his companions. It makes him chuckle when they both pout at him, though they agree easily enough. He leads them towards the cabins near the edge of town, pleased to see that they’ve been unharmed by whatever carnage hit the city. The pier is long and stretches out into the bay, and he can only imagine the beautiful views the ones near the far end must have. 

The look of subdued shock on the attendant’s face when Andromeda requests a room for the three of them, “With one bed, if you don’t mind. We like to sleep all cuddled up when we can,” nearly makes him laugh. He has to turn away to keep from making a stupid noise, half burying his face in Hythlodaeus’s shoulder, though he still grins as Hythlodaeus giggles in response.

How he’d missed the sound of his laughter, truly…

They are directed to the farthest cabin — the biggest and most expensive, they’re told, but Andromeda is a master of her craft, and whatever payment exchanges hands is not nearly what the asking price was. Her hand returns to his in the next moment, shooting him a sweet grin that makes his stomach dip, leading the three of them towards the end of the long wooden pier. His loves make idle chatter as they walk, both of them swinging his hands in a way that distinctly reminds him of when they were children, though Andromeda had always been in the middle then. He dare not truly wonder what makes the two of them place him in the middle now — pity, perhaps — but he can’t find it in him to care all that much once they finally reach the door to their room.

The cabin is beautiful.

The room comes with a beautiful little dining area, a massive fluffy white bed, a beautiful seating area with a cozy looking couch in front of a bookshelf filled with books of some kind — and it is missing a wall on the far end, the whole room opening straight onto the sea.

Hythlodaeus gasps at the sight, grinning as he reaches for Andromeda to pull her along, clearly planning to go look out at the deck, but Hades follows close behind with a scowl, clicking his tongue as he pushes at his sleeves.

“Are they out of their minds?” he asks, brushing past his darlings to lift his hand and, with the snap of his fingers, a sheer wall of magic forms, closing off the room from pests as well as sealing the sound of their voices from prying ears — while leaving the view. “Honestly, the bugs alone would be a nightmare with this open wall concept! I have half a mind to go get some of our money back since we aren’t getting a full room.”

“Fussy,” is all Andromeda says as she breezes past him, laughing as she squeezes at the back of his neck as she passes, making him reflexively draw his shoulders up around his ears.

Rather than let her get away with it, Hades makes a split second decision to act on an impulse he’s had since they were young. Fast as lightning, he snatches her by the waist, reeling her back in, fingers dancing over her sides until she is shrieking with laughter and then, to punctuate his punishment, he blows a loud raspberry into the side of her neck — which earns him a squeaking, “Hadeeees!!”

Andromeda twists and squirms in his grip, laughing that full, loud laugh he’s missed so much, and it’s not long before he’s joining her. Hythlodaeus stands a few feet away as well, giggling into his hand as he watches them — and his eyes are warm with affection when Hades catches his gaze. Hythlodaeus’s face softens even more as Hades grins at him, settling with his arms around Andromeda’s waist to hold her close and swaying gently, as if he hadn’t just been rough-housing with her like an unruly youth. 

Andromeda chuckles, sliding one hand into his hair as she turns her head to kiss his cheek before attempting to extrapolate herself from his grip — only to laugh when he just tightens his hold, curling around her as he uses the flick of his wrist to reel Hythlodaeus in as well. Hythlodaeus laughs as he stumbles into Hades, humming contentedly when Hades just catches him by the jaw and pulls him in for a kiss.

“Where do you two think you’re going, hmm? The door is closed and we are finally alone for the first time in weeks…”

He’ll never get tired, he thinks, of being caught in a group embrace with the two of them. His loves exchange an amused glance at his expense, sliding their arms around him and each other. As Hythlodaeus rests his forehead against Hades’s temple, Andromeda presses up on her toes to nip at the underside of his jaw.

“Are you not the one who claimed to be exhausted, Hades?” Hythlodaeus murmurs, raking a hand through Hades’s hair, scratching a little in a way that makes him want to shiver. 

On his other side, Andromeda hums, kissing her way down the column of his throat. 

“He certainly was,” she breathes, hot breath washing over his collarbone. “It would seem that was all a ruse, though. He just wanted to get us out of our pants.”

Many, many years ago, he might have gotten flustered by that. The old Hades would have shoved them both away and made any excuse to make himself seem more in control than he really, truly is.

Now, though, all he does is shrug lightly, smirking with his eyes fixated on Hythlodaeus’s mouth as each of his hands slip into the back pocket of both of his lovers. He uses this grip to tug them both closer by the hips, a little rougher than they were expecting, judging by the way their breaths hitch in unison.

“Can’t hide anything from you two, can I? No point in denying it now.”

Andromeda giggles, nuzzling under his jaw. “You could try. It was always funny when you did.”

“Bold words for someone still in tickling distance,” Hades comments, pinching her hip and grinning at the way she squirms in his grasp. Before she can make another witty retort, he dips his head to catch her lips with his, nipping at her lip as he does. He only manages to kiss her for a moment, before Hythlodaeus is sneaking a hand up the side of his neck, tilting his head so that he can kiss Hades instead.

What bliss, he thinks, to have you both in my arms. To know the taste of your lips and the shape of your smiles.

If this is a dream, Hades can only hope he never wakes.

The sun is sitting low on the horizon when they finally begin to stir again. His body aches, but in such a pleasant way that he can’t bring himself to complain, sprawled as he is across the giant bed between his lovers. He’d ended up with his head on Hythlodaeus’s chest some time ago, and as he runs his fingers through Hades’s hair, Hades is struggling to find the will to move, lulled to stillness by the gentle caress and the steady thrum of Hythlodaeus’s heart beneath his ribs. 

He’s half dozing when the woman on his other side sits up, sighing contentedly as she stretches her arms over her head (his eyes are drawn to the curve of her spine and the plump, heavy weight of her bare breasts as she does). He reaches for her as she moves to stand, and she pauses, smiling as she lets him tangle his fingers through hers.

“Where are you going?” Hades asks, voice a little hoarse as he lifts her fingers to his mouth and kisses them.

Andromeda giggles. “I’m hungry. Thought I’d go find us something to eat and bring it back here so you two could have a nap.”

Hades’s hand tightens around hers, tensing at the thought of her leaving his side. It’s not as if they haven’t been apart — briefly — since they came back, but…

“I’ll be right back, love,” she says, laughing as she leans over to kiss him. “The restaurant I saw is just up the beach.”

“Then we can all go,” he says, pushing himself up. His lovers exchange a look that makes him tense, but he shrugs it off, sliding down the bed to start trying to find his clothes from earlier.

“Hades, you’re tired. Stay here and relax.”

Hythlodaeus this time, running a hand up his spine. Though it makes him shiver a little, he shrugs him off as he makes a grab for his discarded pants.

“I’m fine. Let’s go to dinner together. After all, is not part of the fun of a vacation meant to be spending it together?”

He waits, but neither of them answer even as he pulls his shirt back over his head. When he turns to shoot them an expectant look, he finds them looking at each other. For a moment, as they have their silent conversation, he blinks and their forms become transparent — silvery, wispy, the feeble illusion of an addled mind succumbing to grief — and then she looks at him and everything snaps back into focus. Andromeda seems to sense his unease, if the way her smile does not reach her eyes says anything, but she nods anyway.

“Alright. We’ll go together.”

They take one of the farthest tables, out near the surf, where the sand is cool and the torchlight reaches them only enough to barely illuminate the menus. Hades lets himself soak in the sea breeze — cool and salty and humid, a welcome change from the chill of Garlemald or the Light-addled sky of the First. Hythlodaeus pours over the menu with the excitement of a child, and it makes him smile as he rests his head on his hand, watching Andromeda explain the flavors and tastes to him whenever he asks. So engrossed is he in watching Hythlodaeus laugh about one of the kitschy dish names that he nearly startles when Andromeda’s fingers tangle through his, sliding across the table to hold his free hand where it had been idly tapping the wood.

Silver eyes, sharp as a blade, find his, a subtle quirk to her eyebrow all he needs to know she can tell he’s somewhere else. He doesn’t know what to say or how to reassure her — doesn’t even truly know how to reassure himself — though he opens his mouth to make an attempt when something bright lights up the entire shoreline, followed by a noise that makes him flinch. Fireworks, he realizes, but it’s too late for his mind, because when he next opens his eyes—

A world, ablaze. Crumbling. Aether lighting the sky before him as Hythlodaeus turns and offers him one final wave. And then—

The sky, burning with light brighter than the falling stars littering the Earth. His eyes catch on it, the final burst of a dying flame, and the color of it—a shimmering white, interlaced with every color, so familiar, so beautiful—

He remembers murmuring her name. Remembers as Zodiark began to form, he let the aether pull his body away, towards that familiar signature, that wayward soul…

He’d found her on a platform overlooking the star, covered in her own blood. The rock at their feet scorched until it turned a shimmering white, like glass, as if striving to match the soul that had caused the flare.

The mask of Azem lay a few feet away from her limp hand. In her final act, she had taken up the mantle one last time — and with her very soul, she had put an end to that final, misbegotten fiend.

“Hades, beloved, can you hear us?”

He comes back to the present with a strangled gasp, coughing a little when it hurts his throat. His lovers — his Andromeda, his Hythlodaeus — have moved to be on either side of him, each of them with one hand on his back. His eyes dart between them, and he knows he must look frantic, can feel the way his breath comes quick and shallow, before he manages to shake some of the fear away. Clearing his throat, he straightens in his seat, reaching for the fruity cocktail Andromeda had ordered him when they first sat down in an attempt to help ease his heart rate. 

“I’m alright,” he murmurs at length, clearing his throat one more time for good measure. He doesn’t look at either of them as he continues, “I was simply… caught. In a memory.”

“Ah.”

Andromeda sounds unsurprised, and he’s grateful, knowing that she knows so much — that she can guess without pressing. Her hand cards through his hair and he leans into it, risking a glance at her to find…

…empathy. She understands, better than anyone he’d wager, what sort of memory he was trapped in.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Hythlodaeus asks, leaning against Hades’s arm. There’s a slight tremor in his voice that draws Hades’s eyes to him. Hythlodaeus meets his gaze with a tiny smile, though it does nothing to mask the emotions roiling in those pretty purple irises.

Confusion. Worry. Heartache. Longing. Hesitance. Guilt.

…guilt?

Wishing to belay his fears, whatever they might be, Hades offers him a small smile, covering Hythlodaeus hand on his arm with one of his own. “I’m alright now,” he says, running his thumb across the peaks and valleys of Hythlodaeus’s knuckles. “The memory has passed.”

Hythlodaeus only frowns more. “And if it comes back?”

Hades snorts softly, leaning in even more, slumping on the table a little. “Well, then you had best not leave my side. Either of you. Having you here is the surest way to pry me from the jaws of times long past.”

Hythlodaeus looks unconvinced, and Hades snorts, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to his boyfriend’s frowning lips. Distantly, Hades remembers how often he’d thought about doing just this, in those final days. How often he’d talked himself out of it, knowing that his two best friends were in love with each other, and the last thing they needed at the end of all things was for him to shove a wedge between them.

As Hythlodaeus sighs softly into his mouth, tilting his head to deepen the kiss just a little, he thinks about how silly that had been. 

They’d always been a trio, the three of them. It makes sense for him to be included in the deepening of the relationship.

When he pulls away, the worry is still there in Hythlodaeus’s eyes, but it’s smaller now, weaker in the wake of the affection burning in them. Hades can feel himself grinning, stupid and clearly infatuated, and Hythlodaeus looks away, biting his lip as his cheeks flush a rosy pink.

Cute…

“I love you,” Hades says softly, raising his hand to gently brush some of Hythlodaeus’s hair from his eyes. 

Hythlodaeus ducks his head, eyes on his hands where they are folded on the table. It surprises him, still, how shy Hythlodaeus can get. He’d always expected him to be more confident — though, Andromeda had shared as much once, he remembers distantly. A thousand thousand lifetimes ago, she’d told Hades how unsure of himself Hythlodaeus was, how shy and sweet and surprised by her affection he’d been.

He hopes that someday Hythlodaeus won’t be surprised anymore.

“I love you, too,” Hythlodaeus says at length, clearing his throat a little. He risks a glance at Hades, before looking away to the woman on the other side of the table. “I love both of you. More than I think there are words to express.”

When Hades follows his gaze, he finds Andromeda with chin resting in her hands, watching the two of them with such a hopelessly lovestruck expression that even he feels his ears begin to burn. She grins at them both as she says, “I’ve loved you both since we were kids, I think. I’m so unbelievably happy that I get to have both of you. That I don’t have to choose — it would break my heart into a million pieces to have to pick between you, I think.” As both he and Hythlodaeus grin at her, she laughs and asks, “Do you remember our first kiss? When we were kids?”

That makes both men laugh, and Hades slides down in his chair a little, chuckling and rubbing at his eyes. He remembers it very well.

It’s a silly thing to be upset about, truly, but Hades is struggling to remember that as he watches Hythlodaeus and Andromeda sit under the blossoming cherry tree, holding hands and leaning toward each other with intent. A strange, ugly emotion writhes just beneath his ribs as he huffs loudly and grumbles, “That’s not fair,” under his breath.

It startles him when one of them answers him.

“What’s not fair, Hades?”

He stiffens, arms still crossed as he shoots a half-panicked look at Andromeda. She is still sitting next to Hythlodaeus, still holding his hand, but she’s peeking at him curiously — and so is Hythlodaeus, concern etched into his features. 

Oops.

“I — nothing! It’s just — you two get to have your first kiss together, but I won’t get to have mine. You’ll have something together that — that I won’t have with you anymore. It’s not fair.”

That explanation feels wrong as he says it, but he doesn’t know what the right answer is. All he knows is that his ears and face burn and his chest feels full to bursting with… something. Something mean and angry.

Again, he doesn’t expect what happens next.

Andromeda thinks for only a moment, before she says, “Okay!”

He raises an eyebrow, glaring at her. “…okay?”

He nearly starts scurrying away when she clambers over to sit in front of him, Hythlodaeus following not too far behind. Both of them stop on their knees in front of him, and he leans farther back against the trunk of the tree as he eyes them suspiciously.

“…what?”

Hythlodaeus, at least, seems a little confused, too, because he looks at Andromeda expectantly. She shrugs and smiles, grabbing Hythlodaeus’s hand and holding her free hand out to Hades in offering.

“You’re right. It seems silly to exclude you. We’re all best friends, after all.”

Cautiously, he places his hand in hers. “So?”

Tugging so that he has to come closer, she offers him a bright grin. “So we’ll all be each other's' first kiss!”

He blinks. 

Hythlodaeus laughs. “Will that even work? Won’t it be silly?”

Andromeda just shrugs, shuffling closer to Hades and urging Hythlodaeus to follow. “Nah. I think it makes perfect sense. We all three love each other, and we’re all three best friends. Why would only two of us get to be each other’s first kiss? Hades is right — it’s not fair to him.”

It had been silly, looking back, but it is one of his most favorite memories. The nervous flutter of butterflies in his stomach — the tickle of his best friends’ breath when they both giggled against his lips — the lingering tingling on his lips when they both pulled away, giggling and blushing. He remembers that he’d been almost angrily flustered, covering his mouth and glaring at the ground as his whole face burned.

Ah, youth.

“Remind me how it went again?” Hades says, smiling sweetly at his girlfriend, who just laughs. 

“Gladly,” she murmurs, reaching out to curl her fingers under Hythlodaeus’s chin, nudging him closer until they can all three meet in the middle. 

It’s easier now, with years of experience between them. They all know how to kiss now, so it isn’t nearly as stiff and uncomfortable, though it is still a little silly. It’s not quite as perfect as kissing one of them at a time, but it doesn’t matter, the alcohol in his system making him feel a little less inclined to care about PDA as his lips press against theirs over and over again, until he is grinning too much to continue. 

When the kiss breaks and they return to their seats, his chest is lighter. Andromeda reaches for his hand again as Hythlodaeus spreads the menu out in front of him, leaning forward to continue his debate with Andromeda about what funnily named meal to get as if nothing had happened, only this time, with his calf pressed against Hades’s under the table, he’s including both of them in his discussion.

this is very much a WIP i have some other ideas for like... first of all running into my WoL and her friends but also just. the three of them learning how to be together again. learning how to move forward. i have ideas for so many scenes lol. hades waking up choking on tears and screams both to his loves and to an empty bed, because the two of them thought to let him sleep and now he doesn't know what is real and what was a dream. hythlodaeus and g'raha becoming instant bffs. hythlodaeus wrestling with the gap of knowledge he has compared to andromeda and hades. hades desperately not wanting to tell hythodaeus of the last 12000 years but knowing he needs to know. my WoL helping him break the news and also being like "he almost had me convinced it was right too." g'raha and hades being weird in-laws bc they are both in love with the same soul but there are two versions of her walking around now, the one hades knew and the one raha knows. ANYWAY UH. YEAH.

[erebus-xvii]

Uzushio Headcanons!

been on a Uzumaki-centric binge for a while, so I though I'd write down my ideas somewhere, and sometimes the void throws good ideas back.

Starting out, the clans of Uzushio were absolutely merchants and pirates. Most island nations in our world have history as traders with a side of raiding either coastal villages or established trade routes. most of the rampant piracy ended with the warring clans period, but the hidden village of Uzushiogakure remained as something closer to a fortified pirate cove rather than a hidden ninja sanctuary. The actual capital of the land of Whirlpools sat on the other side of the island, a massive bastion of merchant activity where traders sold exotic goods and fleets hired Uzu ships as escorts.

speaking of Uzu ninja ships, those were large and bright and VERY visible, as if daring anyone to attack them. (I came upon this in Six Years After by Strawhat_Pirate, give the series a read) These warships range from raiding vessels about the size of a Viking longship to small fortresses gliding over the water, decked out in elaborate carvings, bright colors, and heraldry of different clans, individuals, and warrior lodges. While most of the raiding ended with the founding of Uzushiogakure, children in coastal villages all over the eastern seas learn some variation of 'Bright colors at sea, from the waters grasp flee' even up to the start of canon.

And there were a decent number of clans living in uzushio. The idea of a group of shinobi clans living together on uzushio predates the creation of Konohagakure, because power and riches tend to attract people who want in. This led to smaller shinobi clans basically showing up on Uzu's shores and swearing fealty to the Uzumaki. By the time that the other hidden villages are being recognized by their respective Daimyo, the head of the Uzumaki clan is the Daimyo of whirlpool and his successor is always the Uzukage.

a lot of people have the idea that uzushio was destroyed by 2 or 3 villages teaming up to ransack Uzu, but that feels a little over the top to me. Sure, Kirigakure would have absolutely had reason to hate Uzu, and Kumo does have a southern coast pointed almost directly at Uzu, but it always feels a little bit like power wanking. In Sha no Sho, (the third databook) it says that Kushina grew up during a period of civil war. So my theory is that Uzushio experienced some sort of internal conflict that weakened their defences near the end of the second war, which Kiri took advantage of, likely told by commanders that it was retribution for piracy their ancestors had suffered. This idea of vengeance combined with fear for uzumaki sealing techniques led to the slaughter of civilians, as refugees fled to the land of Fire. Most of the Uzumaki clan, however, didn't make it, being the main target of the Kiri nin's ire. Konoha's decree of safety only came when refugees showed up, informing Saurtobi of Uzushio's demise.

[vintagerpg]

A lot of TSR’s Forgotten Realms has always read a little bit like a theme park to me. The Great Glacier as a ski lodge with monsters, the jungles of Chult as Jurassic Park with swords. I can see the appeal of this even as it kind of grates on my nerves because I can see all the seams clearly. Like, there was no attempt to hide the seams at all.

Go to the Sea of Fallen Stars, be a pirate! Pirates of the Fallen Stars (1992) may as well be the Forgotten Realms’ Pirate of the Caribbean ride. This should really annoy me. And yet, it does not. There are zero surprises here. There are details on lots of pirates, the islands of the inner sea and a set of rules for all things nautical. Oh, and there is one island where a neogi spelljamming ship crashed and marooned its monstrous crew. So I guess that, at least, is surprising. A pretty solid campaign could spring entirely from this book!